Vessel of Fire - Apprentice
by ElvenWhovian
Summary: Book 2 of 3 - Prisca Baggins is a hobbit who was orphaned from birth under mysterious circumstances. One day when she discovers a long lost relic of the past, she ventures into the Old Forest to find the truth. But when she meets a girl by the name of "Claeo" she soon finds herself caught up in an adventure that proves to be more than she bargained for. No slash. PG-13 Violence.
1. Prologue

Father to the fatherless, defender of widows—

this is God, whose dwelling is holy.

God places the lonely in families;

he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy.

 _Psalm 68:5-6a NLT_

 **Prologue**

In the four years since the War of the Ring, the kingdom of Gondor had flourished. The White Tree bloomed and the city of Minas Tirith shone even brighter, undimmed by any darkness from the distant mountains of Mordor. The surrounding lands were fair and bright and the reign of King Aragorn brought peace and prosperity to all.

At least that was what Peregrin Took had heard since he last visited. Yet as he rode up to the gates of Minas Tirith on an overcast day in early December, the city hung in grey gloom. The sky was rumbling and the scent of coming rain was in the air. A heaviness hung over the city, a foreboding tension that was nothing like the fair bright prosperity that Peregrin had heard tell of. He approached the massive wooden doors of the city gate and the gatekeeper called out to him. Peregrin identified himself and he was allowed to enter.

As the gates opened and the hobbit rode inside, he was greeted by a tall man with shoulder length blond hair. His uniform made it clear that he was someone important.

"Greetings!" the man said with a bow. "I am Maleth, warden of the first level. It is an honor to meet you Sir Peregrin."

Peregrin dismounted and handed the reigns of his pony off to a nearby attendant. He straightened his Gondorian uniform and adjusted the short sword that hung at his side.

Looking up at the man he said, "Well met. I dare say I expected to find the city in better spirits. This is terrible weather you have."

"Indeed it is," Maleth said as he and the hobbit began to walk further into the courtyard that lay behind the city gates. "Such weather has hung over Minas Tirith for some time. We cannot explain it. Perhaps it is just the change of season."

"Perhaps," the hobbit said. Something was making Peregrin feel uneasy, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. The next words that Maleth said didn't help his mood.

"May I ask what brings you to Minas Tirith, Sir Peregrin?"

Peregrin stopped walking and looked up at the man in confusion.

"I received a letter from King Aragorn himself," the hobbit said. "He bid me come to Minas Tirith and lend him my service."

Maleth was equally confused. "I'm afraid that's not possible. The King is away north in Ithilien. If he had sent such a note surely he would have been here to receive you or informed me that you would be coming."

Peregrin reached into the pocket that had been sewn into the inside of his cloak. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Maleth. "Is this not the King's seal?" he said pointing to what was left of the wax circle on the edge of the note.

Maleth eyed the document intently. "It...it is indeed. How could…"

Maleth was cut off by the sound of a distant horn. It blew in three short echoing bursts. Peregrin looked around to see what it might be for. Yet as he observed the men around him, he realized that something was very wrong. Several of them were rushing to the gate and looking out. Others were yelling something that the hobbit couldn't distinguish. The large gates of the city were pulled shut.

"What is that?" Peregrin asked.

"It's the signal that the city is under attack," Maleth said slowly. A soldier ran past them and Maleth pulled him aside. "Soldier, what is happening? Why was the signal for attack sounded?"

"I don't know my Lord," the young man said. "They have shut the outer gates, yet we cannot see where the attack is coming from. The signal came from high up on the fifth level so they must have seen something."

Peregrin and Maleth walked briskly to the base of the outer wall and looked up. Nearly every soldier on the first level was on top of the wall looking out over the Pelennor.

"Coreon! What do you see?" Maleth called to one of the higher ranking soldiers.

"Nothing my Lord," the man called back. "There is nothing on the plain. Nothing that any of us can…"

The man named Coreon was cut off by the same three horns that had sounded before. Peregrin looked up at the fifth level where the sound was coming from. What were they seeing up there that couldn't be seen from below?

Maleth was becoming irritated. There was obviously no attack upon the city, the plains were empty, and this confusion was only causing disorganization. Several of the citizens of Minas Tirith were becoming concerned now. They walked by quickly as they tried to get home as soon as they could. It was standard protocol to return to your home and remain there if the alarm was raised indicating that the city was under attack.

The signal horns came a third time, yet now they were accompanied by another sound. When Peregrin heard it, he reflexively drew his sword and braced himself for the worst.

Up above them, people were crying out in panic. Maleth heard it too and he suddenly realized what was happening.

"The attack is coming from the fifth level! At arms! At arms!"

The large courtyard before the city gates was now chaotic. People were running, soldiers were arming themselves, and everywhere was shouting and confusion. It had all happened so fast that Peregrin barely had time to process it.

Maleth was about to give the order for every soldier to make their way up to the fifth level, when the source of the attack finally showed itself. From a nearby street, the screams of citizens and soldiers escalated. People were running in terror and shutting themselves up in any building they could find.

And behind them came the creatures.

There were hundreds of them; some as big as horses. As one they crashed into the courtyard and soon overwhelmed every person who stood in their way.

Peregrin and Maleth ran for their lives. After getting out of the courtyard, they ducked beneath a pillared arch on a nearby street trying to catch their breath.

"There are - too many of them," Maleth panted.

"What are they," Peregrin asked, his eyes wide with fear.

The hobbit's question was soon answered. A soldier ran past their hiding place. One of the huge beasts pounced on him like a cat pounces on a mouse. The poor soldier went down and Peregrin saw that it was the young man they had spoken to earlier.

They could now see what manner of beasts these were. The creature before them was like a bird, yet it walked on four legs. It had a sharp jagged beak and a wide curved head. Feathered wings jutted from its back, but these were withered and plucked and they flopped uselessly as the beast moved. Its front feet were like the taloned claws of a bird of prey and its back legs were like the haunches of a lion. It uttered a horrible screeching sound that made Peregrin shiver.

As the soldier struggled to get free, the creature calmly kept its front right foot firmly fixed on the young man's back. Then without warning the beast thrust its beak down and gripped the man's head in its jaws. It snapped his neck in one swift and deadly motion before the man could utter a cry.

Peregrin was running now. Horror had overtaken him and all he wanted to do was get away. As he ran up the street, he could hear Maleth behind him yelling for him to keep running. Suddenly the man screamed and Peregrin dared to look back. One of the beasts stood over the fallen form of the man, its long claws dug deep into his back. Maleth was dead and the creature that had slain him had its cold eyes fixed on Peregrin. The halfling could see it in the beast's gaze. He was next.

Scrambling over the cobblestone street, Peregrin tried to concentrate on just staying alive. Dread was overtaking him, weakening his limbs and blurring his eyesight. The city had fallen deathly silent. Every person had either taken shelter or been killed. All Peregrin could hear was his own ragged breathing as he willed his feet to move.

He came to a dead end. The high stone buildings blocked his path of escape. He turned and faced the creature. It was creeping toward him low to the ground, like a huge cat ready to tear apart its prey.

 _This is not how you are supposed to die._

Peregrin glanced up and around him. He had heard someone speaking, but there was no one there.

 _This is wrong._

The creature was still moving toward him slowly. Peregrin dared to call out, "Who's there? Who's...who's speaking?"

 _I haven't forgotten you._

"Please, help me," he called out as he held his sword in front of him. He didn't know who he was talking to, but the words seemed to spring from his throat. "Whoever you are, please! Help me!"

The creature pounced and Peregrin swung his sword. He dealt the beast a solid blow. He cut a large gash in the monster's huge beak and it staggered back. The hobbit saw his chance and made a mad dash past his attacker and back the way he came.

A taloned claw shot out from the side and struck him. Peregrin was thrown in the air and slammed against a nearby wall. He fell to the ground dazed and as he tried to get up his head swam. He staggered and then fell to his knees. There was something warm and wet on his uniform. He looked down and saw that the beast had torn his side with its claw and he was losing blood.

The creature struck him again, this time hurling him across the stone street and back into the dead end. It was trying to corner him again. The hobbit was lying on his back now, too weak to fight or run away as the beast drew closer to finish him off.

Then a memory echoed in Peregrin's mind. Words spoken to him in a place far removed from the dark situation he was in now.

"Eru is in control and He hasn't forgotten us."

The creature was leaning over him now. One of its large horrible eyes was dangerously close to Peregrin's face.

"Please help me," he whispered hoarsely. "Eru... save me."

In the fading world around him, Peregrin thought he heard a loud boom, but there was no way to tell where it came from. Something was screaming near him. His head fell to one side as his vision grew darker. Then suddenly in his mind's eye, as clear as day, he saw the courtyard behind the city gates. And standing in the courtyard was... Claeo? It was! She was bright and shining like he had seen her in a time undone. She was walking up out of the courtyard with her sword out in front of her. And the strangest reality of all was that he felt that if he wanted to, he could speak to her. He was obviously delusional from loss of blood. Yet with his last ounce of strength, Peregrin said, "Claeo. Help."

Exhaustion finally overtook him and Peregrin heard and saw no more.


	2. The Hobbit Girl

**The Hobbit Girl**

Prisca Baggins had never really fit in with the hobbits of the Shire. She loved boats, enjoyed climbing trees, and spent most of her afternoons dreaming of far off lands - all things that the majority looked down upon. She craved adventure like children crave candy and boy did she have a sweet tooth. At the early age of 23, still in her tweens, Prisca found the tedious monotony of daily life a terrible bore. Most of the time she could be found wandering in the woods trying to avoid her chores.

And so it was that on one particularly pleasant morning in the Shire, young Prisca was perched in her favorite oak tree. Sitting precariously at such a great height usually kept people from bothering her. Reaching into her trusty satchel, she pulled out her notebook that she carried with her everywhere. Her uncle had purchased it for her at the Mid-year's day festival last year. She had filled nearly half its pages with notes and things she wanted to remember. On this morning she turned to a page on which she had jotted down a poem to memorize.

"O stars that in the Sunless Year, with shining hand by her were sown," she read, letting the words transport her. "In windy fields now bright and clear, we see your silver blossom blown!"*

The birds around her chirped in approval. She smiled and gazed out at the lands below. Far to the east was Buckland and on the far side of Buckland was the Old Forest. Beyond that was Bree and somewhere past that, the fair Valley of Rivendell. Prisca had only read about such places like Rivendell or the land beyond and had no hope of ever going there. Yet this didn't stop her from staring longingly towards the distant hills and wondering what lay past them. What adventures awaited the willing traveler?

Reading the rest of the poem, she recited, "We still remember, we who dwell, in this far land beneath the trees, thy starlight on the Western Seas."* The wind caught her long brown curly hair and for a moment she imagined that she was a fair elf maid, dreaming of things from the long forgotten past. Prisca drank in the verse with delight. Oh, how she wished that she could write an epic poem! She had started to write her own poem a while back, but alas, such things seemed too high for her grasp.

"What in heaven's name are you doing up there?! Get down!"

The hobbit girl's epic moment of existential longing was broken by the shrill voice of a hobbit woman far below. Prisca peered down at her and frowned. Was there nowhere in the Shire that she could go to get away from people?

"Come down this instant," the hobbit woman commanded. Prisca closed her book, stowed it securely in her satchel, and descended the tree. When she reached the bottom, the older hobbit looked at her disapprovingly.

"For goodness sake child! Are you trying to break your neck? Haven't I told you that you aren't to climb any trees?"

Prisca looked down at her bare hobbit feet and said, "Yes Mother. I know. I'm sorry."

Prisca's mother, a stout hobbit woman by the name of Estella, looked at her sorrowfully. "Well come along then," she said. "Your father is getting the cart ready for the trip."

The Mid-year's day festival would be starting soon in Hobbiton and that meant that nearly every hobbit in the Shire would be there. That also meant more crowds and for Prisca more crowds meant more ridicule.

In addition to being rather odd from a hobbit's perspective, Prisca also had the stigma of being an orphan. Her parents had adopted her when she was just a baby. Her uncle, Matthias Brandybuck, a kindly old hobbit who lived in Newbury on the very eastern edge of Buckland, had found her. He claimed that she had been mysteriously abandoned and left on his doorstep. When her parents took her in, they named her "Priscilla" after her great Aunt on her father's side. Yet like most hobbit names it was shortened and she became known as "Prisca".

As was usual, tongues began to wag in Hobbiton and Bywater as news spread about the mysterious orphan. The local gossip was that Prisca's birth mother had gotten pregnant illegitimately and had no official husband to speak of. That must have been why no one ever saw her and why she abandoned her child. Certainly if she was an honorable woman, she wouldn't have resorted to such mysterious and irresponsible methods of finding her baby a home.

Prisca's parents had gotten flack for this throughout the years which had only given them harder demeanors. They were honorable hobbits and they would raise Prisca to be the same, so that was that. Yet when the young hobbit girl began to display attributes not commonly seen in the Shire, many said that it was because of her irresponsible heritage and the fact that she was found in Buckland, a place where many hobbits liked _unnatural_ things.

Thus Prisca loathed the Mid-year's day festival and all the gossiping hobbits who came with it. But as she climbed into the cart that day and she and her family trotted down the road, she tried to focus on the one positive aspect of this trip: Visiting Mr. Gamgee. Prisca's father, Porto Baggins, had fought in the Battle of Hobbiton nearly four years ago and had become good friends with Sam Gamgee in the aftermath. This was how Prisca had been introduced to Sam Gamgee and his family. Porto was a farmer and not inclined to books, but he did understand that such things would be beneficial to his daughter. So it was, that after Frodo left the Shire, Porto came to an agreement with Sam Gamgee. Prisca would visit Bagend once a month to help Rose around the huge place and in return Sam would teach Prisca to read. Once a month, they loaded up the cart and took the two hour journey to Hobbiton. Porto was also able to sell a large portion of the crops from his garden and soon the monthly trip became a lucrative routine.

It was through these trips and her lessons with Sam, that Prisca's world had been open. Once Prisca had mastered reading, Sam actually let her read _the_ Red Book of Westmarch, the handwritten account of all of Bilbo and Frodo's adventures in Middle-earth. From day one she was hooked. Soon her reading was so good that she had finished the entire tome two times over. Currently she was working on her third reading of the text even though it had only been about a year and a half since her tutoring began. She had begun to bring her notebook to her lessons and she jotted down her favorite poems to memorize. This was where she had gotten the poem she had been working on recently.

As the cart pulled into Hobbiton, they could see the massive crowds of people setting up pavilions and getting their wares ready to sell. The Mid-year's day festival was both a time of celebration as well as trade. There was a musical band set up on the northern end of the field and a wide open area for dancing after the sun went down. There were games and contests around every corner. Hobbit children ran willy nilly laughing and playing every which way you looked. On the other side of the festival grounds was the Hill and if you looked carefully, you could see the green door of Bagend peeking out from beneath the earth.

Porto drove his cart into the midst of the crowd until they reached the allotted space for him to sell the vegetables and fruits they had brought. Prisca got out and quickly helped him set up while her mother made her way towards the Hobbiton post office to retrieve any mail that had come for them in the past month. Prisca dutifully helped her father arrange the cabbages, carrots, and turnips, all the while trying to avoid the passing glances of other folk.

At last her father loaded up a small wooden crate and handed it to her.

"I know you're mighty apt to visit Mr. Gamgee," he said smiling. "Run along up to the Hill and take him these. Give him my regards. Your mother will come up and collect you once the festival has ended."

Prisca thanked her father and began to briskly walk through the crowd on her way to Bagend. Prisca had never been fond of large groups of people. They made her feel stifled and the fact that most of these people were silently judging her didn't help either. She kept her eyes focused on that green door ahead of her as she bobbed and weaved through the throng.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the Hill loomed even closer. Yet as she at last came in sight of the gate around Mr. Gamgee's garden, she stopped in her tracks. A group of hobbit children stood in her way and at their front was a particularly stocky young hobbit around the same age as Prisca. He smiled impishly at her.

"Don't fancy hanging out with us common folk at the festival?"

The stocky hobbit before her was Hogarth Boffin. Behind him was a troop of what Prisca called his "lackeys." Hogarth was the big bully amongst the children in Hobbiton and he wore it with pride. His own parents more often than naught turned a blind eye to his cruelty. In his current troop, Prisca spotted Cordelia, a friend of Prisca's in days gone by. About a year ago Cordelia had started following Hogarth's rabble in order to be more popular with the other children. Of course Prisca, having the reputation that she had, was not invited to join with her. In fact, Hogarth seemed to enjoy nothing more than tormenting Prisca. She had gone a different way through the festival than was her usual trek in order to avoid them. But they knew where she was going and thus had planted themselves directly in her path.

"Let me pass Hogarth," Prisca moaned.

The young hobbit boy detected her annoyance and said, "What's the matter Prissy? You gonna be late for your reading lessons again?"

He strode up to her and she set her crate of vegetables on the ground. They had knocked it out of her hands many times before and Prisca was determined that it would not happen again. As Hogarth glared at her, she looked him dead in the eye. She tried to be intimidating, but it was hard to be scary when you are 23 year old hobbit girl with rosy cheeks and frizzy hair.

"My Pa says that hole is cursed," Hogarth said. "And that Gamgee is just as mad and crazy as old Bilbo and that nutter Frodo was."

Prisca's face became red. To her, Bilbo and Frodo were the closest things to heroes that she had. To hear them insulted made her blood boil. Her fists tightened at her sides.

"Oh did I hurt your feelings?" Hogarth said mockingly. "You gonna hit me for calling your stupid heroes cracked? Maybe hanging out in that ratty hole up there is making you cracked too? That's not surprising considering where you come from."

She swung her fist at him as hard as she could. The hobbit boy ducked and caught her arm, pinning it to her back.

"Oi! You kids get back to the Festival where you belong," a voice called from the direction of Bagend. Every eye turned to behold Sam Gamgee standing on the steps leading down through his garden. He brandished a rake in his hands but it wasn't needed; his gaze was as intimidating as they come. Hogarth released Prisca and shoved her, pushing her to the ground. One of his lackeys kicked over her crate of vegetables as they strode off. Cordelia glanced at her sorrowfully, but then followed the troop as they walked back to the festival.

Sam rushed down to help her yelling, "Hey you lot! Come back here and help this young lady," but the kids ran off and were lost in the throng of people. Sam reached down to help Prisca up. She dusted herself off regretfully.

"Are you alright," he asked as he gathered up the dropped vegetables.

"Yes Mr. Gamgee. Thank you," she said.

"I would have come sooner if I had known what was happening. Those ruffians sneaking around my grounds... I'll put a stop to that. It won't happen again."

"Thank you Mr. Gamgee."

"Are these from your father," Sam asked as he hoisted up the crate of veggies.

"Yes Sir," Prisca said. "I'm sorry some of them got dirty."

"Oh no matter," Sam said cheerfully. "Rose will wash 'em up and they'll be good as new."

As they entered Bagend, Prisca's heart lightened. The dark tones of the old wood paneling and the smell of papers and books always reminded her that this place was where adventures began. When the green door was shut, the world outside didn't seem to matter anymore. Bagend was like a little slice of wonder amidst the dull normality of hobbit life.

"Hello Prisca dear," Rose said as she entered the foyer. Young Elanor was cradled in her arms. Prisca smiled at the baby and made a wide-eyed playful expression that made Elanor giggle.

"Prisca brought us some of Porto's vegetables," Sam said as he set the crate down.

"Oh how nice of him," Rose said beaming. "How is your father Prisca?"

"He is well. He sends his regards."

"Prisca," Sam said. "I know it's a bit of short notice, but would you mind looking after Elanor for the rest of the afternoon? Rose and I have been invited to a town meeting that will be held at the festival."

"Not at all Mr. Gamgee," the hobbit girl said. "I'm always happy to look after sweet Elanor."

At that moment another individual came into the foyer. This person was the tallest of all three of the adults. Prisca's face lit up.

"Pip! What are you doing here?" she said excitedly.

Peregrin Took smiled. "Prisca! Hullo! I've just come by to see Sam before heading off to the meeting. I'm going to represent the West Farthing." He looked at Prisca and then said playfully, "Ah to be young again. I remember when I was a carefree child like you."

"Pip you sound like an old man," she chided. "Just because you've come of age doesn't mean you're not still just 10 years older than me. You're my cousin not my uncle."

"I suppose you're right," he said. "I _can_ still be childish if I want to can't I?" With that statement Peregrin playfully ruffled the top of her curly hair. The young girl batted him away laughing.

Peregrin was in fact Prisca's first cousin on her mother's side; Estella was Paladin's sister. Having just turned 33, Peregrin had only recently been considered an adult, but that didn't stop him from joking about already being an old man. Prisca was very fond of him. In many ways he was like the big brother that she never had and she wished that he would come around more often. He was one of her few family members who didn't think she was strange or odd. Something about the adventures he had been on with Mr. Frodo had made him a bit more tolerant of the unnatural and mysterious.

The two cousins began to catch up, but were interrupted by a knock on the door. When Sam answered it, he was greeted by the Hobbiton postman. After handing Sam the specifically labeled parcels and envelopes, the postman glanced inside and said, "Ah! There you are Mr. Took. I had heard you were visiting Hobbiton, but I didn't know where to find you. This letter came for you. I was going to get my brother to run cross country to you, but I might as well just give it to you here."

Peregrin took the letter from the postman with a word of thanks and as the courier left, Prisca leaned in to see who the note was from. Peregrin shooed her away, but then stopped when he saw the seal. It was a circle of red sealing wax, embossed with the outline of the white tree of Gondor. Prisca recognized it immediately and gasped excitedly.

"Is that... is that from Gondor? From King Aragorn?" she said, practically bouncing up and down. "Is he summoning you back to Minas Tirith?"

Peregrin opened the note and read it with his back to her. At last he looked up and said with a surprised expression, "That's exactly what it says." He glanced at Prisca and muttered, "Lucky guess."

Rose and Sam were now heading out to their meeting. Rose handed off Elanor to Prisca and then went to retrieve her umbrella. Prisca continued to press her cousin.

"What does he need your help with? Is it official business or does he just want you to visit?"

"It doesn't say," Peregrin said. "All it says is that I am to come at once to Minas Tirith to lend my aid as a knight. But it doesn't say what they need my aid for."

Prisca was rocking Elanor back and forth in her arms. The baby cooed and began playing with the hobbit girl's mass of curls.

"Can you take me with you?" Prisca blurted out. Peregrin looked over at her surprised.

"Wha - are you mad? Of course I can't take you with me," he said as he folded up the paper and stuffed it in his coat pocket. "Don't be absurd Prisca. I know you are obsessed with the stories of all our adventures during the war, but I'm afraid you may have romanticized them too much. You are not fit for that kind of journey."

"Oh but surely you could vouch for me," she implored. "Please, I so want to visit the places I've read about. It's all I've ever dreamed of."

"I'm sorry Prisca," Peregrin said as he straightened his coat collar. Sam and Rose were heading out the door and Peregrin followed after them. As he stepped through the door behind the Gamgees he said, "I'm afraid it's just not possible."

"Oh but please!"

"Prisca no! You are not going to Minas Tirith." With those words Peregrin shut the round green door to Bagend behind him. Prisca was left standing alone in the foyer of Bagend as Elanor continued to dig her short fingers into the girl's hair. Prisca watched through a nearby window as the three of them walked down to the festival.

She heaved a deep sigh and shuffled to the sitting room. Finding a rocking chair, she sat down and began to rock Elanor. Prisca was still ruminating on Peregrin's letter. It wasn't fair that he got to go off and visit all these places. Why couldn't he take her with him? She wouldn't be any trouble.

After an hour or so, little Elanor fell asleep. Prisca set her in her cradle and then sat down in the chair next to it. Opening up the Red book, the young hobbit girl found her stopping place towards the end of the story. It was the account of the days after the Ring was destroyed. Even though she had read it twice before, one particular line caught her eye. The first two times when she had read the story through, she was so excited by the tale that she rushed through each page, overly eager to find out what happened next. Now, reading things slowly and methodically, the verse stuck out to her plain as day. It was at the end of a paragraph concerning all the people Frodo had met in Ithilien upon their waking up after destroying the Ring.

"Peregrin also introduced us to a young friend of his, a very strange girl called Claeo who wore a sword and, we were told, was a great warrior."

Prisca thought this was very odd. A young girl wearing a sword who was a friend of Peregrin's. Who was she? Female warriors were not uncommon in the text that sat in Prisca's lap. Eowyn had been a friend of Meriadoc's and together they had slain the Witchking. Merry didn't hesitate to mention the valiant sheildmaiden of Rohan when he spoke of _his_ adventures. Yet Peregrin had never mentioned this "Claeo" before and Prisca began to wonder why that was.

For some reason this mystery didn't sit well with the hobbit girl. She pulled out her notebook and recorded the sentence incase she needed it later. The next time she saw Peregrin she would ask him about this Claeo. Unless of course he rode off to Minas Tirith before she got the chance. In that case she would have to wait until he returned to get the answers that she craved.

* * *

*"Song for Elbereth" from _The Fellowship of the Ring_ , page 78


	3. The Heist

**The Heist**

Claire Bernhart was starting to second guess taking a mission in the _Star Wars_ universe. She liked adventure of course, that was the whole point of this, but the situation was becoming far too complicated. On top of that, the group of people she was working with were certainly an odd bunch

There was Evvin Hunt, the brash human smuggler who looked more like Han Solo than anyone else. He was snarky, reckless, and an excellent pilot. He had been the one to recruit her on this mission, though she doubted if he truly understood what was going on.

Before they had left Coruscant they had picked up a Chiss named Tirm'glissa'odul. She went by her middle name, Glissa, and she was secretive to a fault. When they asked her anything about her past she simply replied, "That's a secret. Can't tell you."

Last of all was Tac. Tac was a Squib, a short blue fur covered alien with long ears and an adorable face. Tac also had an affinity for throwing knives and anyone who called him cute got threatened with one. He was also quite adept at hacking, thus making him a vital member of the team.

And of course Claire wasn't called "Claire" in this world. Indeed she wasn't human either. For this mission Claire was called "Cara Tadir" and she was a Togruta. Togrutas were humanoid aliens with two horns called montrals that went out from the back of their heads . She also had three head tails, or leku, growing out from the sides and back of her head. Claire's Togruta form had purple skin with white markings on her face and montrals. A bizarre look to be sure, but ever since she had seen the jedi Togruta Shaak Ti in _Star Wars: Attack of the Clones,_ she knew she wanted to be a Togruta and she loved the way she looked.

The job they had taken was supposed to simple: find a planet on the outer rim called Dolara, infiltrate the Imperial base located there, and steal a ship. However, Dolara was very remote and a chore to find. Also, for such a remote area, the Imperial base was heavily guarded and they had only managed to sneak in by the skin of their teeth. On top of that they soon found out that the ship they were supposed to steal was not all it seemed.

They had found the vessel fairly quickly, but then ran into a problem. The ship required a key which was not the norm in most starships manufactured in the post-Republic days. Glissa remained on the ship while Tac scurried off to disable the defence grid. Meanwhile Evvin and Claire went to search for the key. The two of them had split up and shortly after that, Claire found General Halliday's office. General Halliday was the chief executive officer of this particular Imperial base and he had a reputation for ruling with an iron fist.

After entering his office, Claire crept over to Halliday's desk. There on the far corner of the flat metallic surface was the key, a blue and gold token that was oddly shaped. It had an insignia on it that matched the logo on the ship and she could tell that it would fit perfectly in the keyhole they had seen on the bridge.

But just as she was about to leave, Claire heard voices coming up the hallway. She shut the door to the office so that she wouldn't raise suspicion, replaced the key on the desk, and then hid in a nearby storage closet. As she softly shut the door, she heard Halliday enter followed by another person.

"But Sir," the other officer said, their conversation in the hallway continuing inside the office. "We only just finished the prototype. We can't possibly build another one by next week."

"The Emperor wants a fleet of those ships by the end of the current year in Coruscant," Halliday said smoothly. "I suggest you get used to being rushed."

The officer didn't say anything. Claire imagined that they were having an epic stare off of some sort. After a few moments, she heard the other officer leave. As soon as the door to his office closed, Halliday opened a communication relay with someone whose voice she didn't recognize.

"This is Section 6," the stranger said.

"This is General Halliday. Are those plans that I gave you still under lock and key?"

"Yes Sir. Just as you instructed. The engineers were only given enough to assemble the ship, but I had your personal scientists install the component this morning. It should be ready for a test flight first thing tomorrow."

"Excellent. I've informed the head of the assembly station that production is to be sped up. I know that great haste can sometimes tempt people to cut corners. I'm just calling to remind you that those plans need to remain a secret."

"Of course Sir."

Halliday ended the communication and got up from the desk. Claire waited a few moments after the door clicked shut. When she opened the closet door, she breathed a sigh of relief. The key was still on the desk. She snatched it up and put it in her pants pocket.

Pulling out her communicator, she whispered, "Evvin...come in."

Claire heard the sounds of blaster fire on the other end before a voice finally answered. "I certainly hope things are going better with you than they are with me."

"Where are you?"

"I'm two halls down from where we split up." The sound of shouting and blaster fire continued in the background. "What about you?"

"I'm in General Halliday's office. And I found the key."

"Wonderful," Evvin said dryly. "Let me get out of this fire fight and I'll meet you back at the ship."

Claire opened the door of the office and crept outside. There was no one in the hallway so she began to run as fast as she could. She couldn't disguise herself or bluff her way out if she met a stormtrooper, so trying to be inconspicuous was pointless.

Her communicator chirped and the voice of Glissa came on the device.

"You both better hurry. It looks like they are getting ready to do some maintenance on the ship. We have to get out of here soon."

"I'm on my way," Claire panted as she continued to run. "I've got the key. Start prepping the ship for launch."

As she drew near to the hangar, she caught the familiar sound of blaster fire. Coming around a corner, she saw Evvin standing just outside the hangar door. He was ducking in and out exchanging fire with some stormtroopers who were guarding the ship. Apparently he hadn't been able to lose them. Claire drew her blaster pistol from its holster and joined him.

"Perfect timing," he said. "Come to join the fun?"

Claire leaned forward and fired on a trooper near the ship's landing gear. She dared fire off another shot, but then ducked back inside the door.

"You have a strange definition of fun," she said with a crooked grin.

Out of the corner of her eye, Claire saw Tac sitting behind a nearby equipment bin. He was crouched down and yanking wires out of an electrical panel set into the floor with his tiny blue hands. When he had finished, the short alien peaked over the edge of the bin, his ears pressed back against his head. He drew two long throwing knives out of a sheath on his sleeve and flung them at two of the troopers. They both went down and Claire and Evvin were able to make a dash for the open hatch of the ship.

Claire kneeled down just above the ramp and gave Tac some cover as he scurried aboard. Evvin stood in front of the hatch still shooting at the troopers that continued to arrive at the hangar.

"Evvin, come on! We have the key. Let's go!" she yelled over the sound of the fire fight.

Evvin was on a lucky streak. He was hitting every stormtrooper he aimed at and it was making him cocky. "It's ok!" he yelled. "You and I both know stormtroopers never hit anything."

"Don't press your luck," Claire yelled.

Just then General Halliday strode into the hangar, a blaster pistol in hand. Without hesitation, he aimed his gun at Evvin and shot him right between the eyes. The human fell back on the ramp of the ship with an echoing thud.

He was dead.

* * *

On a rainy afternoon in southern Georgia, five teenagers sat around a table in the furnished basement of a suburban house. The walls were covered in _Star Wars_ posters. Shelves sporting countless books and action figures from the same franchise filled nearly every corner. On the table was a game board with grid lines and markers outlining the layout of a few hallways and a large room. Small figurines stood in for each person's character and several d20s and other various dice were scattered amongst the chaos.

"Crap!" one of teens shouted, slamming his fist on the table and rattling the game board. This was Mark Werther, a young man of about 13 years who was now mentally kicking himself. "Are you sure I'm dead?"

Mark's older brother, Steven Werther, the official game master, looked up from his binder and gazed woefully at him.

"Mark...you rolled a 1 and your health was drastically compromised from the firefight. You're dead." He paused and then asked, "Did you finish the stats for your back-up character yet?"

Mark shook his head and frowned at the portion of the table in front of him. "But what about the armor I picked up back in Coruscant? And the + 5 dexterity I gained from our last mission?"

Steven shook his head. "Sorry bro. There is no way Evvin could have survived a shot like that at point blank range."

Sitting at the table next to Mark was Anna, Claire's friend and fellow piano hater. Next to her was Walter, a stocky fellow who looked more like he should be playing football rather than _Star Wars_ Roleplaying. And next to him sat Claire Bernhart. She stared down at the picture of her roleplaying character she had drawn and taped on her stat sheet. The smiling face of the Togruta looked back at her.

"Do I have a clear shot at Halliday?" Claire asked.

"Yes," Steven said.

"Then I take aim and fire."

"Ok…" Steven said leafing through his binder. "Roll a d20 for the shot and roll another for stamina to see how fast you are."

Claire rolled for the shot and it came out 17. The roll for the stamina was a 9.

"Your aim is good and you hit the general. However he moved before you pulled the trigger and you only hit his shoulder. Halliday staggers back and drops his gun."

Claire thought for a moment. "I grab Evvin's body by the shoulders and drag him inside. Then I hand the key to Glissa."

"I start up the ship," Anna said. "Are there any turrets outside the hangar that we need to worry about?"

"Roll for a sensor scan," Steven said.

Anna rolled a 15.

"There are 10 turrets that you can see, but they are all disabled by Tac's hacking skills. The ship takes off with no attack from the base's defences," Steven said.

Walter smiled and leaned back in his chair. "I make my way to the galley of the ship and make a sandwich," the stocky fellow said. "There is a galley on this ship right?"

Steven nodded.

Mark, who had been silent with crossed arms until now, finally spoke. "This isn't fair," he said. "Walter threw knives and hit those troopers perfectly. I should have been able to shoot General Halliday before he got me."

"But Walter wasn't just in a huge firefight prior to the altercation which compromised his health," Steven said, more than a little annoyed at his brother's immaturity.

"Plus Tac is super adorable which makes up for everything," Walter said with a dorky grin. Mark shot him a dark look and got up from the table.

As Mark stormed up the stairs of the basement, Steven followed after him saying, "Oh come on Mark. Don't be like that."

From above Mark yelled, "Just because you're game master doesn't mean you control everything. I should have had the chance to shoot Halliday."

The argument continued upstairs after that. Claire, Anna, and Walter sat in silence for a moment until at last Walter spoke up.

"Well, I've got to head home anyway. Doesn't sound like we're gonna play anymore today."

"Yeah," Anna said. "I've got 4H in a few hours so I probably need to go too."

The argument upstairs escalated now and Anna leaned over to Claire.

"Makes you glad you don't have siblings doesn't it?"

"Ha, yeah," Claire said forcing a laugh. In truth she sympathised with Mark. Nothing was worse than investing in a character for so long and then getting them killed in a really pathetic way. But that was the way death was in an RPG. There was no clever last minute story-telling trick you could use to resurrect a character. No deus ex machina to save the day. Dead was dead and Claire knew that it could have happen to any of them.

Steven came down the stairs and said regretfully, "Well guys, I know that Mark isn't up for playing anymore, so we should probably just call it a day."

They all packed up their binders, stat sheets, and core books and walked to the foyer. Claire's Mom arrived a few minutes later and they drove away from Mark and Steven's house.

Arriving back at her own abode, Claire quickly retreated to her room. The rain was falling softly outside now and the mid-afternoon light threw blue tones around her room. She dropped her roleplaying bag and all its contents on the floor and flopped onto her bed. The roleplaying session had lasted nearly 6 hours and she was exhausted. She stared out of the window of her room at the blue tinted rainy world outside. Trees stood near to the house and beyond them was the woods and all its adventures.

But adventure was the last thing on Claire's mind. She was still thinking about Anna's comment from earlier.

" _Makes you glad you don't have siblings doesn't it?"_

Answering Anna in the affirmative had been a lie on Claire's part. She found being an only child to be terribly lonesome. One of the reasons she fell so headlong into any fandom that crossed her path was her inner longing for community, for like minded individuals. Claire was good at making friends, but keeping them was harder. People seemed to always move on while she stayed in the same place. Her current group was ok, but they had their own lives and they seldom got together. This RPG session had been the first time they had met this year and it was almost Christmas. 2004 was nearly at an end.

Claire felt that she needed more than "every once in awhile" friends. If just one, _just one_ , would stick with her to the end, she felt that she could do anything. A real honest to goodness best friend, that was what she needed. And in considering Anna's question, Claire had always imagined that a sibling would by default be that person.

If Claire was honest with herself, she would have said that she wanted an older sister. Someone to confide in and take care of her. She used to dream about what that would be like and soon the ideal was overly romanticized in her brain.

"I wish I had a sister," she muttered as she lay on her bed staring out the window. "I wish that more than anything in the whole world." It was a bit of an exaggeration, but Claire was alone and feeling sorry for herself so she didn't care. She could dream couldn't she?

Claire dreamed about a lot of things these days. Since the day she had watched "How the West was Won" and heard that familiar tune of _Greensleeves_ , an epic tale had been forming in her mind. A vague, distant, dream-like tale of a girl who went to Middle-earth and fought monsters with magical fire powers. It was just her imagination of course. Yet the song _Home in the Meadow_ had struck such a chord with her that she had committed the song to memory. There was something familiar about it; nostalgia was probably the best description. When she heard the tune or sang it, she felt like there was more hope in the world. That somewhere out in the chaos of reality there were people out there who were the friends she was looking for.

Claire's eyes began to droop as the sound of the rain lulled her to sleep.


	4. The Lost Child

**The Lost Child**

That night of the Mid-year's Festival, Prisca finished the Red book for the third time. As she rode home with her parents, she gazed back westward toward Hobbiton and looked forward to the next time she would get to visit Mr. Gamgee and his family. Even if it meant braving bullies and gossipers it was worth it.

Prisca's parents were oddly quiet during the journey, but that all changed when they got home. Her father called her into the sitting room. Both parents sat across from her apprehensively trying to find a way to begin what seemed to potentially be a difficult subject.

"Prisca, your father and I have been talking," Estella began. "And we have decided to move to Buckland before the end of the month."

"Oh," Prisca said surprised. "Why?"

"I've been talking to your Uncle Matthias," her Father said. "He mentioned a few months back that a farm was for sale in Newbury. It's larger than our current farm and it will allow us to pay off the debt on our cart as well as purchase a new pony."

There was a pause. Prisca's mother then said, "And we heard about what happened today at Sam Gamgee's house. We think it's best if you stay away from those children. Your father and I agree that Buckland will be a much nicer place for us to live."

Prisca nodded. She understood all that they were saying, but the troubled look on their faces was still odd to her.

"So we are moving in a few weeks?" Prisca clarified. Her parents both nodded. "Why do you both look so worried?"

Estella glanced at Porto. The hobbit farmer looked down for a moment and then back at Prisca. "We won't be going back to Hobbiton anymore," he said.

Prisca sat frozen for a moment trying to process his statement. "What do you mean?"

"There's more opportunities to sell our crops in Buckland and the trip will be much farther from there than it is from Bywater," her father said.

"And we are concerned about your safety, dear," Prisca's mother said, leaning forward and placing a hand on the girl's knee. "Those children could have hurt you! And it doesn't look like it will get any better."

Tears were welling up in the hobbit girl's eyes. "But - but Mr. Gamgee said he would keep them off his property. He said it wouldn't happen again."

Estella shook her head. "I'm sorry Prisca, but no. There is no reason for us to go back to Hobbiton anyway. Your tutoring is finished, so there is no need for you to go back to Bagend."

"But what about reading the Red Book?" Prisca said loudly.

"Dear, you've read it three times," her father said. "Isn't it time you moved on from that story?"

Prisca began to sob now. She knew her parents; they wouldn't be changing their minds.

"We've already bought the farm," her father said. "We will leave for Buckland in two weeks.

Prisca couldn't bear it any longer. She jumped up from her seat and ran to her bedroom. Slamming the door behind her, she cast herself on her bed and continued to cry. How could this be happening? The thing that had changed her life and brought her so much joy was being taken away from her. The thought that she would never be able to read the Red Book ever again filled her with remorse. All she had of it was what she had jotted down in her notebook. If only they had told her, she would have recorded more.

Yet Prisca understood why they hadn't mentioned the move before this night. They wanted her last visit to be happy and not sad. In reality her parents truly did care about her. They were doing this partially for her sake, but lying on her bed soaked in tears, Prisca didn't feel like she was being cared for. To her, something precious was being taken away and nothing would ever be the same.

* * *

Within three weeks, Prisca and her parents were settled in their new house in Buckland. There weren't as many woods to explore or trees to sit in at the new place. There were no magical vistas or proper places to recite poetry. Prisca had withdrawn somewhat and her parents took notice. As August rolled around, they realized that the young girl needed a bit of cheering up so they arranged for her to go spend a few weeks with her Uncle Matthias.

Prisca's Uncle lived on the border of Buckland, practically up against the Hedge, a row of tall thickly grown bushes that separated that region from the infamous Old Forest. Matthias was the person who had found Prisca on his doorstep all those years ago. His hobbit hole was very large and ornate, much like Bagend, and Matthias was a collector of books. Prisca loved visiting him almost as much as she loved visiting Bagend, so her parents thought that a nice long holiday with her uncle might help her acclimate to the situation better.

Being only a few miles from the new house, Prisca packed a small bag and walked to Matthias's hobbit hole. When Prisca arrived she was greeted by the old hobbit who offered her a large cup of tea and an equally large book from his library. The two of them sat in his study night after night, Matthias sitting quietly with his pipe and Prisca reading aloud from a book of old Shire tales. They weren't as exciting as the Red Book, but Prisca found the reading refreshing. Her parents had been right in thinking that this trip would lift her spirits. By the end of the first week of her three week visit, the gloom that had hung over Prisca seemed to be lifting.

Then one night, as the older hobbit and the young girl finished their reading session, Prisca glanced out the window at the trees outside. It was dusk and the blue tones of evening were creeping up from the east. The trees swayed and the distant clouds rumbled with approaching rain. Just beyond those swaying trees was the Hedge.

Matthias was sitting in his armchair leafing through a book, when Prisca asked, "Have you ever been in the Old Forest, Uncle Matthias?"

The older hobbit paused. He resumed looking through the book as he said, "A few times."

"What was it like?"

"Well," the older hobbit began. "It was dark. And the trees are always moving. You have to be very careful not to lose your way."

"Mr. Frodo and the other hobbits from the Red Book went in there once," Prisca said, still staring out at the trees. "Pip went in there too. He said they met an odd fellow named Tom Bombadil and his wife Goldberry. They met Barrow Wights too. I certainly wouldn't want to meet one of them. Have you ever met anyone in the Old Forest?"

Matthias was staring into space. When he didn't answer her, Prisca turned to look at him. "Uncle Matthias?"

The older hobbit blinked and then said kindly, "Prisca, would you fetch me my other pipe? It's in the desk drawer there." He pointed in the direction of one of the many untidy desks on the other side of the study.

Prisca rose from her seat at the window and walked over to the chaotic scene. Her uncle returned to reading his book as she began to open the desk's drawers. One drawer contained some old pen quills. Another contained a substantial amount of gold coins. Matthias's secret stash perhaps. It was when she had opened the third drawer that she heard her uncle say, "Oh dear. You have the wrong desk. It's the cherry one next to you."

But Prisca wasn't paying attention. She had just opened a drawer filled with very old papers. As she brushed her hand through them, her fingertips fell on something small and metallic. Pulling it out, the hobbit girl saw that it was a small silver pin in the shape of a flower with six petals.

She rose from where she had been crouching. Prisca nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw her uncle standing behind her. He looked down and saw the metal pin in her hand. Matthias's eyes widened. He reached for the pin but Prisca pulled her hand back.

"Prisca, give me that please," he said in a serious tone.

"What is it," she asked as she stepped back a few paces. Matthias followed her across the room. His expression was troubling.

"It's...it's something that..." His voice trailed off. He stared at Prisca for a moment and then ran his hand over his face wearily.

"How old are you now Prisca?" he said at last.

"Twenty-three. Why does that matter?"

The older hobbit sighed. "I cannot lie to you Prisca," he said. "It's time I told you."

The older hobbit gestured for Prisca to join him as he sat down in his armchair.

"Tell me what?" she asked as she sat on the couch across from him.

Matthias leaned forward like he was about to tell a grand story. The young hobbit girl shifted in her seat and leaned in close.

"You need to know the truth, dear Prisca," he said. "I'm afraid I have been lying to you and your parents for the past 23 years."

Prisca's brow furrowed in confusion. Matthias continued.

"I didn't find you on my doorstep all those years ago. I found you out there." He pointed out of the window and in the direction of the Old Forest. "It was on a night a lot like this. I was covering up some of my garden before the storm came when I heard a noise like something crying. I still don't know how I heard it over the wind, but it was as clear as anything. I followed the source of the sound and I realized it was a baby crying, yet the strangest thing of all was where it was coming from."

Prisca's eyes grew wide as Matthias said, "It came from the other side of the Hedge. From inside the Old Forest. It was you I heard. You were such a tiny thing, wrapped in a blanket."

Matthias looked down at the small metal pin that Prisca held in her hands.

"That was pinned to your blanket," he said. "That and the blanket were all you came with. You were left at the foot of a tree not 5 feet inside the edge of the forest. I called out for anyone who might have left you, but I got no reply. Yet I could have sworn that I saw someone running back into the woods. It's hard to tell distance in there, but it looked like a woman."

Prisca's throat was dry. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

"Was it...do you think...it was my mother?"

Matthias shrugged, but he couldn't help the hopeful expression on his face. Prisca swallowed. The possibility of her mother still being alive and out there somewhere made her heart race. The pin in her hands was the only clue to her past. And yet she was also beginning to feel angry that this had all been kept from her.

"I'm sorry you've been lied to all these years," Matthias said.

"Sorry?" Prisca said sharply. "My real mother might have been out there all these years and you said nothing?"

"I had to keep it all a secret," he said. "I knew the strange tales told about that wood. I couldn't care for you on my own and I knew that Porto and Estella were wanting a child. I also knew that if anyone found out that you came from the Old Forest…" He trailed off shaking his head. "There's no telling what stories would have started. You know how hobbits can be about gossip."

Prisca stood and turned her back to him. Tears began to stream down her face as she clutched the pin in her hands. Matthias came up behind her and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Your parents love you Prisca," he said softly. "And I love you dear."

Prisca's lips trembled angrily. She had always longed to know her real parents. If only Matthias had gone after her real mother. If only she knew where she belonged.

"I know it's a lot to take in," Matthias said. "I'll leave you to think about it. Goodnight my dear."

Matthias when off to bed and Prisca was left alone in the messy disorganized study. The rain began tapping against the window panes as she stood contemplating her heritage. Could her mother still be out there? Why had she been in the Old Forest? Was there something in that wood connected to her past?

As the young hobbit girl stared at the pin in her hand and then turned to look back out through the rainy window towards the distant Hedge, she began to get an idea. If she found her mother and cleared her name, then maybe the mean kids back in Hobbiton would finally accept her. It was a stretch, but even if they didn't, at least the rest of the hobbits would, right? And perhaps if that happened, she could convince her parents to let her go back to Hobbiton and visit Sam Gamgee, and then she would be able to read the Red Book again. In addition to that, Prisca had always wanted to know who her real parents were. She loved her adoptive parents dearly, but the longing still remained. She wanted to find her real mother.

Another matter pressing in on her mind was her cousin Peregrin Took. She had heard the news that he had left for Minas Tirith only a few days ago. Doubtless he would be taking the road that runs north of the Old Forest and then stop in Bree. If she hurried, perhaps she could catch up to him and make him take her to Minas Tirith? He certainly wouldn't leave her behind and he couldn't turn around. He would have no choice but to take her with him.

Thus a plan was formed in Prisca's mind. She would leave tonight and venture into the Old Forest. She would leave a note for Matthias saying that she had become homesick and gone back to Newbury. Her uncle would think she left early in the morning and assume that she did exactly as her letter stated. Her parents would assume that she was at Matthias's for the next two weeks, so during that time no one would come looking for her. And by the time they noticed she was gone, she would be well on her way to the capital city of Gondor.

She would cut through the Old Forest and come out on the northern road. While in there she would search for any sign or hint of her mother. After the fall of Sauron all the bad scary things of the Old Forest had certainly gone away. There was no need to fear any Barrow Wights or murderous trees, right? And maybe she would meet Tom Bombadil. Just the thought of that made her excited.

Prisca crept to her room and gathered her things into her bag. She wrote the letter and left it in the kitchen where she knew Matthias would find it in the morning. While she was in the kitchen, she wrapped up some bread, dried fruit, and a flask of water for the journey. Stuffing these items in her bag, she realized one other thing she needed: money. She would have to pay for a room in Bree and, if Peregrin was especially cross with her when she found him, perhaps contributing to the trip financially would appease him. Prisca crept back into the study and found the drawer filled with gold coins. As Prisca began to gather a substantial amount of Matthias's money into a small pouch she had found, the thought crossed her mind that this was stealing. She brushed it off however when she thought about how she had been lied to all these years. She deserved to be compensated in some way didn't she? And besides, her uncle was quite wealthy. He wouldn't be needing this money.

It was nearly midnight as Prisca, bag slung upon her back, strode to the front door. Opening it, she saw that it was raining; not the best weather to be traveling in. But she was high with the thrill of adventure now and this didn't phase her one bit. She didn't mind her head getting wet, but if her clothes got damp she would be pretty miserable even in late summer. She reached up and grabbed one of Matthias's thick waist coats. It was much too big for her, but it would keep her dry. She adjusted the straps of her bag to fit better around the oversized coat. Taking a deep breath she stepped out the hobbit hole and shut the door behind her with a soft _click_.

The rain was beginning to let up a bit, but she was still very glad of the coat. She began to walk through the wet grass towards the hedge. As the tall hobbit-made bush drew ever nearer, Prisca found herself picking up the pace. Before she knew it, she was running. Not because she was afraid of being caught, but for the sheer excitement of it all. She imagined herself like Mr. Bilbo running out of his door, off to have an adventure with 13 dwarves and a dragon.

She was standing at the Hedge now. The rain was moving on and the shreds of cloud were parting just enough to let the light of the moon peak through. The tall green wall loomed over her. She peered down at its base and saw a small break in the branches just big enough for her to crawl through.

Prisca knelt down in the wet grass and squeezed through the opening. As her hobbit feet disappeared into the hole, she knew that there was no going back.

Prisca Baggins was off on an adventure.


	5. The Return

**The Return**

Claire was vaguely aware of the sound of water splashing around her. As she opened her eyes and looked around she saw tall trees and green grass. The stillness was peaceful and familiar. She breathed deep. There was something nostalgic about this wood. Hadn't she been here before?

Then she heard it. That familiar tune sung by an ethereal voice. _Greensleeves._ The more she listened, the clearer her mind became. Claire's eyes grew wide as she looked down at herself. She was standing in a pool and she was wearing her Realm Jumper clothes and a cloak. Her sword hung at her side and on her back was her pack that she had used on her last journey.

 _Her last journey._ The memory poured back into Claire's mind and the shock of it was like a plunge into cold water. The journey from Rivendell, meeting Laemellon, the encounter with Morlyg, Isengard, time travel, Elrain punching Morlyg in the face, Minas Tirith, the Siege, the final showdown in Mordor, and the journey back to Rivendell - it all came flooding back. Claire's chest tightened as she gasped. The ethereal sensation she had felt before was now even more familiar.

"How could I have forgotten?" she asked aloud.

Back in her own world, she hadn't really remembered her adventure in Middle-earth, save a few vague images that bled into her drawings. The dim story that had been forming in her mind was like a dream, composed of bits and pieces that were blurry and abstract. Yet here, back in the Wood Between the Worlds, it all was so crystal clear. Why didn't she remember things in her own world?

The woman singing "Greensleeves" stopped. Claire turned and recognized Yavanna standing in the same place she had seen her the last time. The Vala smiled, her face radiant.

"Welcome back Realm Jumper," she said. "I have returned to give you another task."

Claire was grinning from ear to ear as the reality of what was happening began to sink in. She was a Realm Jumper. That memory alone filled her with excitement. And now she was to be given another task, another adventure. All the cares of her life in her own world seemed to fade away. She was slowly becoming the person that had left Middle-earth before. The person who had seen the shore of the Sundering Sea with her own eyes. With each moment that passed, she became less in wonder and more excited. She was back. She was the Venë Faeur.

"Your presence is needed in Middle-earth once again," Yavanna said. "This is the guidance that Eru has bid me relay to you. Go east until you reach Rivendell. Travel as fast as you may, for time is short. There you will meet one who is called the Owl, she who has seen both what has been and will be. She shall introduce you to your apprentice."

"Apprentice?" Claire said with a bemused expression. She was familiar with the word from watching _Star Wars_ , but the mention of it in relation to her felt odd.

"You must train this apprentice to take your place as guardian Realm Jumper over Middle-earth. Such a one is needed in the days ahead. You must teach your apprentice what you have learned. They must become a believer in Eru's power. The Owl will tell you which direction to go. But fear not. Your apprentice is a person of immense power and resolve. They are of noble blood and shall play a great part in the days to come."

The Vala turned and began to walk away. Claire stepped toward her and said, "W-wait."

Yavanna turned and Claire suddenly felt stupid for even questioning a being as powerful as she was. Yavanna was basically an archangel, but the Vala's green eyes were kind and made Claire feel somewhat confident in inquiring further.

"Why do I need an apprentice to take my place?"

Yavanna smiled. Claire thought she detected a hint of sadness in her eyes. "You shall see in time," the Vala said. "Trust in Eru. Only then will you understand His sovereign hand."

And with that statement, Yavanna turned, strode behind a tree, and was gone.

Once again Claire was left alone in the Wood Between the Worlds. There were no special gifts this time. Apparently that was a one-time deal. Claire shuffled her pack from her back and examined the contents. Inside were her familiar items: a compass, her Bible, a map of Middle-earth, and _The Lord of the Rings_ book. Also inside was some food, a flask of water, and flint and steel.

As she hoisted her pack onto her back again, she noticed that her Realm Jumping ring was not on her finger. It was on the chain around her neck. She thought this was odd, since she surely would have used it to come up through the pool she had been standing in. Yet when she really thought about it, she didn't remember putting it on. The last thing she remembered in her world was falling asleep on her bed after the roleplaying session. Claire thought back to the last time she went to Middle-earth and how she thought it was all a dream. It had taken quite a few hairy situations to convince her otherwise. There was no doubt in Claire's mind this time, but the strange conundrum presented to her now gave her pause. How was she being transported to the Wood if she wasn't using her ring? Perhaps, as Yavanna had said, this mystery would be revealed in time as well.

Claire stepped into the Middle-earth pool. She thought back to the last time when she had seen Elrain before entering. She looked around her, but there was no one to be seen.

As she stared down at the water rippling around her ankles she began to contemplate her mission. The idea of teaching someone made Claire feel a bit uneasy. Last time she had been sent to fight a demon. This time she was supposed to do what Elrain had done for her. It didn't sound very glamorous or exciting and the idea of being someone's mentor was intimidating.

"I suppose now I'm in Elrain's shoes," she thought to herself. "I hope whoever this person is, that they are an easy learner."

Claire slipped on her Realm Jumping ring and entered Middle-earth.

* * *

It took quite a while for Prisca to realize that she was going in the wrong direction. The Old Forest was dense and the path seemed to disappear and reappear haphazardly. It was hard to tell how long she had been walking, but the moon had moved a great distance across the sky. She was beginning to see the key flaw in her plan: traveling at night. The only light was the occasional patch of moonlight scattered here and there by the receding clouds. Otherwise, she was staggering around in near total darkness.

Prisca had also begun to wonder if her supposition about all the scary things being gone was incorrect. There was a heaviness in this wood and the trees bent ominously over her. The Old Forest was noisy with the sound of dripping water from the passing rain shower. It was difficult to hear if anything or anyone was nearby. She found herself glancing behind her to make sure there was nothing creeping up when her back was turned.

She reached down and picked up a large stick and brandished it like a sword. Twirling it a few times made her a bit more confident. If anything came at her, it would get quite the blow from her newly found weapon. She was a hobbit to be reckoned with.

Prisca walked on for another hour. She thought she was headed north now, but it was hard to tell. Ahead of her was a particularly dark patch of wood and she stepped through it cautiously without event.

She chuckled to herself and glanced behind her at the path she had come down. It didn't look as scary now. "Honestly Prisca," she thought to herself. "There's nothing scary in this wood. It's all those stories in the Red Book working on your imagination. There's no more evil trees or hooded demons roaming this place."

Prisca took a step forward and walked straight into a tall hooded figure. She swung around and saw two glowing eyes staring down at her. The hobbit screamed and dropped her stick. Prisca fell backwards and landed on the wet leafy ground. The ominous figure was now looking down at her, its bright eyes still glowing. The hobbit girl frantically crawled backwards, panic wholly taking her. In her mind she was screaming to herself _It's a Barrow Wight! Get out! Get out of this wood now!_

Prisca lept to her feet and started to run, her head turned to keep an eye on the ominous hooded person. She didn't want it chasing her without her knowing.

That was when Prisca ran straight into a tree. The side of her head hit the bark with a dull _thunk_. She fell backward onto the leafy ground. When her mind cleared and her ears stopped ringing, she looked up to see a hooded face staring down at her. This face didn't have glowing eyes and was hidden in shadow. Yet one key attribute about this person was now clearly evident: They were considerably taller than Prisca. So this was either a Barrow Wight or one of the big folk. Prisca had never met one of the big people, so either prospect filled her with fear.

At last the person spoke.

* * *

"Are you ok," Claire asked as she looked down at the hobbit girl.

Arriving in a wood at night was the last place Claire had thought she would end up. It was a strange setting to begin an adventure in Middle-earth, but Claire was just excited to be back. She could have been dropped into Mordor and it would have still been awesome.

The small hobbit bumping into her was also an interesting turn of events. And even more comical was how the young halfling had run straight into a tree. Claire had been using _the sight_ to figure out where she was and she supposed her eyes had scared the poor girl. She willed _the sight_ to cease and leaned over her cautiously. The halfling stared up at her with wide-eyes, like she was looking into the face of death itself.

"Are...are you a Barrow Wight," the hobbit asked shakily.

Claire looked around the woods in astonishment and then looked back down at the hobbit.

"Is this the Old Forest?"

When the hobbit didn't answer, Claire huffed, "No. No I'm not a Barrow Wight. What are you doing out here?"

The hobbit girl still didn't answer. Claire moved to the side and reached a hand down, a non verbal offer to help her up. The hobbit eyed her suspiciously. At last the small girl held out a trembling hand and took Claire's. After she had helped the hobbit onto her feet, Claire removed her hood. The small girl who stood before her stared at the human in wonder.

"Are you one of the big folk?" she said almost in a whisper.

"Yeah," Claire said. The hobbit girl before her was about three and a half feet tall with thick curly brown hair and a young rosy cheeked face. However it was very apparent that this hobbit was out of her element. In the dim moonlight she saw that her hair was wet and clinging to her forehead, her coat was two sizes too big, and she continued to stare with a wide-eyed look of utter astonishment.

"And who might you be," Claire asked.

"My name is Prisca Baggins," the hobbit replied. "Who are you?"

"I'm Claeo."

"Claeo?!" Prisca cried. "You're Claeo? _The_ Claeo?"

Claire was taken aback. Now it was her turn to look astonished.

"You've heard of me?"

"Yes," the hobbit said enthusiastically. "I read about you in the Red Book. You were Pippin's friend. The young warrior in red and black." Prisca was grinning from ear to ear now. She removed her pack from her back and reached inside. Pulling out a small book, she leafed through a few pages and then stopped.

"Peregrin also introduced us to a young friend of his," she read aloud. "A very strange girl called Claeo who wore a sword and… Hey!"

Claire had snatched the book out of Prisca's tiny hands. She examined the halfling's writing in the dim moonlight.

"That's my property," the hobbit cried. Claire held the text just out of her grasp as she reached for it. "Give it back!"

"This is impossible," Claire muttered to herself. Looking back down at Prisca, she asked, "Frodo wrote this in the Red Book? Was that all he wrote about me?"

"Yes, that was all. Now give me my book back," Prisca said indignantly, still reaching for the text in the human's hands. Claire gave it back to her and the hobbit clutched it tight as if Claire might try to take it again.

Claire had always assumed that Frodo wouldn't write about her in the Red Book because there was no mention of her in _The Lord of the Rings_. But apparently that wasn't the case. A part of her was mortified that she had made an impact in such a manner, and the other part of her was disappointed that she had only gotten a sentence.

This new information about the Red Book was interesting, but Claire now remembered how entirely odd this meeting was.

"So, Prisca Baggins," she said. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?" Claire put one hand on her hip and the other hand on the hilt of her sword. The Hobbit swallowed and looked up at her nervously.

"I'm… I'm running away," Prisca said.

"Running away from what?"

"Home."

Claire blinked. "What for?"

Prisca's eyes darted around as if she might be able to spot an answer amidst the trees. Finally she raised her chin and said rather indignantly, "That's none of your business."

"Oh...well. Alright then," Claire huffed. She could tell this kid was stubborn and up to no good, but whatever the hobbit girl was about, it wasn't Claire's responsibility. Her mission was to get to Rivendell. And as Yavanna had said, time was short. Talking to his random hobbit was only wasting her time.

"Well I'll just leave you too it then," she said.

Claire adjusted the strap on her pack and began to walk eastward. "Have a good evening. Good luck with running away."

* * *

The tall girl pulled the hood of her cloak over her head as she strode away from Prisca. The hobbit found this "Claeo" intriguing, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her story. Frodo had noted that she was "strange", but what did he mean by that? Why was she in the Old Forest? Then something occurred to Prisca.

"Wait!" she called after the girl. Claeo stopped and turned to look back at her.

Prisca dared take a few steps closer. She had never met one of the big people before, but after speaking to her, this girl didn't seem too dangerous.

"Why didn't you know you were in the Old Forest?"

"What do you mean?" the girl said slowly. Prisca couldn't see Claeo's face in the shadow of her hood, but the tone of her voice betrayed her demeanor. She was nervous.

"You asked if this was the Old Forest. Are you really so lost that you don't know where you are?" The hobbit was standing in front of Claeo now, peering up at her suspiciously. Now Prisca could see her face in the dim moonlight. The girl looked down at her with a clever expression.

"That's none of your business," she replied.

The two of them stood for a moment glaring at one other. Claeo was clever as well as odd, but she didn't seem evil. Even though she was one of the big people, she had a kind face with steady eyes. She was exactly what Prisca would have imagined an "adventurer" to be like.

"I suppose we both have secrets don't we?" the hobbit said at last.

Claeo nodded. "I suppose so."

"Since you won't say how you got here, may I ask where you are going?"

The human sighed. After rubbing her forehead for a moment she said, "I'm headed to Rivendell."

Prisca's face lit up with excitement.

"Take me with you. Please?" Prisca pleaded.

Claeo's brow furrowed. "What?"

Prisca fell to her knees and she clutched her tiny hands together.

"Oh please _please_ take me with you. I won't be a burden I swear. Just take me as far as Rivendell. I've always wanted to go there. It's been my dream."

Claeo began to back away. "I'm sorry but I don't think that will work. I don't have enough provisions for the both of us."

"I brought my own provisions," Prisca said quickly. The human began backing away from her warily and Prisca was keeping pace.

"Look," Claeo said. "I'm on a very important mission. I don't have time to argue ok? It was nice to meet you, but no."

The young girl turned and began to walk away. Prisca stood watching her for a moment before realizing what she had to do. The hobbit girl adjusted the straps on her pack and began to follow her. After a few moments, Claeo began to notice.

"Are you following me?" she called back.

"Yep," Prisca said. "I'll follow you all the way to Rivendell if I have to."

Prisca heard the human let out a frustrated moan. At last the girl stopped. Claeo turned to face Prisca, her hooded face none too happy.

"Are you sure you want to run away from home?" the girl asked.

"It's a long story," Prisca said. She could tell that Claeo was somewhat responsible, being an adventurer and all. If she told her the reason she was running away, the human might not be very agreeable. Prisca was determined now. This was too good of a chance to pass up.

"Well, I suppose you can tag along…"

"Oh thank you!" Prisca said jumping for joy.

"But only to Rivendell," the human said. Prisca nodded, still grinning from ear to ear.

Claeo began to walk again and Prisca came alongside her and kept pace. "The first thing we need to do is get out of this wood and onto the northern road," Claeo said.

"Then we'll stop in Bree?" Prisca asked.

"Uh yeah," the girl said. "We can stop in Bree." Prisca could tell that Claeo was surprised at how much she knew about things.

As they began walking through the woods, Prisca wondered if traveling with this girl would delay her in catching up to Peregrin. Her ultimate end goal was still to go to Minas Tirith. Perhaps when they got to Rivendell she could leave this strange traveler to whatever journey that lay before her and follow after Peregrin on her own.


	6. The Innkeeper's Warning

**The Innkeepers Warning**

The next day, in the clear hours before noon, Claire sat in the shade of a nearby oak tree. She and Prisca had walked for a few more hours through the Old Forest until they had at last come out onto the northern road. When the sun had begun to rise, Prisca had succumb to sleep deprivation and Claire agreed to take a break from the journey and let the hobbit get some rest. Prisca was currently curled up under another tree, the oversized coat she wore pulled over her like a blanket.

As the hobbit slept, Claire gathered her thoughts. She was still processing coming back to Middle-earth and having this new Realm Jumper mission. The last time when she had accepted the task of going after Morlyg, she hadn't taken it seriously. It was just a dream of an adventure that would cater to all her Tolkien fan wishes. But now, after seeing how serious and dangerous things had gotten the last time, she was becoming somewhat anxious. There were very little details given to her upfront this time and there was also the mystery of why she needed an apprentice in the first place. Claire didn't fancy herself a teacher and the thought of having that kind of responsibility now filled her with dread. She was 15. She wasn't old enough to teach anyone anything.

She looked over at the sleeping hobbit nearby. This Prisca Baggins seemed to have some kind of story, but she was being tight lipped about it. Claire shrugged. It didn't matter. Perhaps Prisca would make the trip to Rivendell entertaining. She certainly was a character and a perceptive one at that. As soon as they got to Rivendell and the hobbit had her fill of fangirling, Claire could leave the hobbit with the elves and be on her way elsewhere.

Stretching her neck, Claire breathed deep and shut her eyes. She had wanted to do this the moment she was back in Middle-earth, but Prisca had interrupted her.

"Are you there?" she said in her mind.

 _I always am,_ the Voice of Eru replied.

Claire smiled. "I've missed talking to You. Thank you for letting me come back to Middle-earth."

 _A part of you will always be here. Your friends need you. The road will not be easy, but I have set a path before you._

"So why do I need an apprentice?"

The words of Eru came clear and quickly. _You will see in time. Trust in my sovereign hand._

That statement was eerily familiar. Yavanna had said almost those exact words. It didn't seem like Claire was going to get the answer she wanted. Yet if there was one thing she knew, it was that Eru was in control and…

"Good morning," a cheery voice said.

Claire's eyes popped open. Prisca's face was inches from her own face and Claire nearly fell back against the tree.

"What are you doing?" Claire exclaimed.

"What are _you_ doing? Were you sleeping or something?"

"No I was...praying," Claire said annoyed.

"Praying?" Prisca pulled a confused face.

"It doesn't matter," Claire said as she stood.

She began to gather up her things. They had to get on the road to Bree soon. The words "time is short" kept ringing in her head and they had already lost a few hours with Prisca sleeping. She hoped that this hobbit wouldn't become an unforeseen variable in the equation that was this mission.

* * *

Prisca was beginning to understand why Frodo had said that Claeo was strange. When the hobbit awoke, she had found her sitting on the ground with her legs crossed, sitting very still with eyes closed and back straight. After she had waved a hand in front of her face to get the girl's attention, the hobbit had resorted to more conventional means of snapping her out of whatever trance she was in.

Claeo looked annoyed at being startled and quickly started to gather her things. In the light of day, Prisca was now able to get a better look at her. She had shoulder length wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and a young face. She couldn't have been much older than Prisca in maturity. Humans aged slower than hobbits did, so Prisca guessed that she was maybe in her teens.

Claeo also wore the red and black that Frodo had described. At her side hung an enormous sword with a curved hilt. Prisca had seen Sting at Bagend, but she had never beheld a blade as formidable as this.

Claeo was also in a hurry so Prisca followed suite. She slipped Matthias's old coat on and shouldered her pack. Within a few minutes they were both ready to go.

As Prisca looked down the road towards Bree, she thought back to that afternoon in the tree before the Mid-year's festival. At that time she had only dreamed of going east and seeing all the places she had read about. Now she was actually doing it. The air was fresh with hints of autumn on the way and the path before them was clear.

"This is magnificent," Prisca said. "I love adventures."

Claeo smiled and said, "I do too." She looked down at Prisca thoughtfully and then asked, "Do you know any good walking songs? What about _Upon the Hearth_?"

The hobbit did a double take. "You know that one?"

"Of course I do," Claeo said. "I know all the walking songs from the Red Book."

"You've read the Red Book," Prisca gasped in wonder.

"Many times. Or at least a version of the text," Claeo said with a sly grin. "I practically have it memorized, especially all the poems and songs. They're one of the reasons I love it so much."

Prisca laughed with delight. Claeo was turning out to be a kindred spirit. Perhaps the big people weren't as bad as the hobbits of the Shire made them out to be. This girl seemed to have almost as much knowledge of Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo's adventures as Prisca did. Few hobbits of the Shire could claim that.

* * *

"So then I come up beside Sam and his mouth is hanging wide open. Like, he's just standing there dumbfounded. Treebeard was looking down at him all 'hroom hroom, nice to meet you' and Sam just stands there."

Claire's story of Samwise meeting Treebeard for the first time had Prisca nearly doubled over in laughter. The two of them had made excellent time over the past day and a half and would soon be approaching Bree, but Claire figured they had time for one more story.

"So I lean down next to Sam and I say 'Close your mouth Sam.' And then Frodo started laughing and Samwise turned beet red."

Prisca wiped a tear from her eye. Chuckling she said, "He never told me about that. How embarrassing!"

"Yeah," Claire continued. "Afterwards he was like 'Well Mr. Fro-do, I dare say I'd heard Mr. Took and Mr. Brandybuck describe the ents, but bless me! What strange creatures they were. I could 'ardly speak.'"

Prisca threw her head back and laughed. Claire's impression of Sam had apparently been spot on and the hobbit girl was loving every minute of it.

"Oh my," Prisca said when she had composed herself. "You sound just like him."

As the two travelers came to the Greenway-crossing near the village, they knocked on the Western gate. The gatekeeper, an old and grizzled man, eyed them suspiciously, but then let them inside. Claire wondered if it was the same gatekeeper that had eyed Frodo and company so suspiciously over four years ago.

Bree was a very old and worn down place, yet it had its nicer qualities. It was very quaint with classical architecture that reminded Claire of an English countryside village. As she and Prisca walked down the main thoroughfare, they got a few strange looks from the locals. Both hobbits and men lived in Bree, so it wasn't strange to see the two peoples mingling. Claire wondered if it was her sword that looked odd. She made an effort to conceal it under her cloak as much as she could.

Evening was drawing near as they approached the Prancing Pony. In the dim light of dusk, the tall building loomed over them. Through the entrance they could see the courtyard set between the two wings of the inn. To the left was the main entrance and Claire and Prisca could see warm light coming from the windows.

Presently Claire realized something that she hadn't considered before: She had no money for the room. For a moment, she scrambled to know what to do. Then an idea came to her. It wasn't the most thought out idea, but under the circumstances it would have to do.

As they approached the door of the infamous inn, Claire turned to Prisca and said, "So I just realized that I don't have any money. But I have an idea. I know this innkeeper pretty well. Watch and learn." She winked at the hobbit and the two entered the Prancing Pony.

No sooner had they entered the main foyer, a cheery looking hobbit sped past them carrying a tray of mugs. Claire opened her mouth to speak, but the hobbit cut her off.

"Just a moment please," he said as he sped off through a door.

"I suppose some things never change," Claire commented.

In the foyer was a sort of "front desk" for the inn. It was stacked with record books, quills, and bottles of ink. Off to the right was the entrance to the common area. A few patrons sat on benches by the fire, smoking pipes and talking amongst each other. One of the more rough looking fellows, a man with a wide brimmed hat, eyed Prisca and Claire keenly as they waited for the innkeeper. Claire gave the fellow a dark look and pulled her cloak back casually revealing her sword. The man looked away after that.

At last the innkeeper arrived. He was short, round, and bald, yet he didn't look as stressed as Claire thought he would be. There didn't seem to be as many guests at the inn as there were back during the events of _Chapter 9: At the Sign of the Prancing Pony_. Barliman Butterbur rubbed his hands on his apron as he stepped behind the desk.

"Good evening Ma'am," he said. "How can I be of service?"

"Ah Butterbur!" Claire said, her face brightening at his arrival. "How wonderful to see you again. How have you been?"

The middle-aged gentleman looked at her in confusion. "Beggin your pardon ma'am," he said. "Have we met?"

"Really?" Claire said, feigning surprise. "Oh Barliman, you always were the forgetful type. It's me. Claeo. Gandalf's friend. You remember old Gandalf right?"

"Indeed I do," the innkeeper nodded. "I suppose you might have slipped my mind, but I think I'd remember if an odd looking lass carrying a sword came to my inn. But regardless you're welcome to our accommodations. Our inn is one of the safer places in the town. There's been a bit of thieving in these parts, so keep your belongings close to ya."

"Great," Claire said flatly. Her plan to make him think that they had met seemed to be failing, so she would have to resort to her backup plan. It was the less desirable but more honest of methods she could think of.

"I need a room for me and my friend here." She pointed to Prisca who stood on her tiptoes peering over the lip of the desk.

"Ah good evening," Butterbur said cheerily, just now noticing Prisca. "A traveler from out of the Shire I take it?"

Prisca nodded, but before she could say anything, Claire continued.

"As I was saying, I need beds for two," she said.

"Good good," Butterbur nodded as he examined one of the record books.

"But you see, my friend and I are in a bit of a bind and I was hoping you could help."

"Oh," he said looking up curiously. "Are you girls in some sort of trouble?"

"Well, we are on a bit of an urgent trip. Kind of an emergency and we left in a hurry. And wouldn't you know it, I left without a single coin on me. So, would it be ok if Prisca and I worked in the kitchen or something to pay things off?"

Butterbur started to answer, but Prisca cleared her throat very loudly. The man and the girl both turned to look down at her. The hobbit rummaged in her bag and said, "I was going to say... I have all the money we need right here."

Prisca produced a leather pouch. She reached into it, grasped a handful of the contents, and dropped them onto the desk. Before them was a pile of gold coins. Barliman and Claire gawked at the legal tender.

"Bless me!" Butterbur exclaimed. He wrapped his hands around the coins as if to conceal them from any who might see. "Who might you be, little lady, to be carrying such as this with you?" His question came out in a hissing whisper. Claire could tell that he was nervous.

"I'm Prisca Baggins," the hobbit said proudly. "I've heard all about you Mr. Butterbur from my cousin. You may remember him. Mr. Peregrin Took."

Claire's jaw dropped in astonishment. "Your cousin?"

"Well that's very nice," Barliman said. "Good to make your acquaintance. But dear, you should know that showing off gold like that is very dangerous. As I said, there's a thief on the loose in Bree and ya can't be too careful."

"Prisca, where did you get so much money," Claire questioned in a whisper.

"I - I took it from my Uncle's study."

"You stole it?" Claire said, her voice momentarily rising in surprise.

"He wasn't going to use it," Prisca hissed.

"Ladies, please do pipe down," Butterbur chided. He lifted his hand and gathered a few of the coins. The rest he discreetly handed back to Prisca. "This'll be more than enough to cover your stay. I'll get Nob to take you to your room."

As the cheery hobbit they had seen earlier led them to their room, they passed through the common area. Again many of the patrons watched them curiously, but one person was most notable to Claire. For a moment she thought it was Aragorn, but then she remembered that he was King in Minas Tirith now. This gentleman looked almost exactly like him. He was weather-worn, wore a hood over his face, and sat in the corner of the room alone. He made eye contact with Claire as they passed and she thought she saw recognition in his glance.

Their room was equipped with two beds made for big folk but Prisca didn't mind. She flopped on one of them and sighed contentedly. As Claire shut the door behind her, she turned and said, "Good grief! Are you trying to get us robbed flashing that money around?"

"I wasn't sure how much the innkeeper needed," the hobbit retorted.

"And you're Peregrin's cousin? Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

"I guess I was so excited about going to Rivendell, it slipped my mind. But Peregrin never mentioned you."

"Really? That's odd," Claire mused. Why wouldn't he mention her? Was he mad at her again after all this time? It was a troubling thought, but not the most pertinent thing on Claire's mind.

"Well that's something to ponder later," Claire said. "But right now I want more details on this gold you stole."

"I didn't steal it. I just...borrowed it from my Uncle without telling him."

Claire sat down on her bed and rubbed her face wearily. She wasn't Prisca's mother, but boy would this hobbit have been in trouble if that were the case. Presently Nob brought a tray of food to the room and the two had supper. Afterwards, Claire decided to venture into the common area. She was curious to know who the ranger-ish looking fellow was. She advised Prisca to stay in the room and keep her money out of sight.


	7. The Theif

**The Thief**

At first Claire thought that the common area was empty. The fire in the hearth was still lit and Butterbur was busy in the kitchen a few doors down, but most of the patrons had gone to bed. Yet as she walked further in, she spotted the weather beaten man that had made eye contact with her. He was sitting in the corner of the room and smoking a pipe.

Claire had taken off her cloak but kept her sword on her belt. If this fellow was trouble she wanted to be prepared. Plus she thought it made her look a bit more intimidating. She walked over to the man in as confident a manner as she could manage. When he didn't move, she sat down in a nearby chair.

The man looked at her keenly. "Good evening," he said smoothly.

"Good evening," she said. After a moment of contemplation, Claire said, "I saw you earlier. You remind me of one of the Dunadan Rangers."

This got the man's attention. He took a draw on his pipe and said, "What do you know of the Dunedain?"

"Only that they have long guarded the borders of the Shire. I once met Aragorn who was a Ranger and is now King in Gondor."

The man smiled. "Did you now? Well that solves that mystery." Leaning forward he added, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Venë Faeur."

Claire tried her best to stay composed. This man could have heard her name anywhere. "What makes you think I'm the Venë Faeur?"

"Because I am Faron son of Feiradan, a 'Dunadan Ranger' as you put it. I was with King Aragorn during the aftermath of the Siege of Minas Tirith. I heard tell of a young woman who slew a troll. A young woman dressed as you are and carrying a sword. We also have a mutual friend."

"Oh and who is that?"

"An elf by the name of Elrain," he said casually. Claire looked at him amazed. As far as she could tell he wasn't lying. If he was, he had certainly done his research.

"Ok, you got me," she said casually throwing her hands up. He smiled. Faron was a rough looking fellow, but he had a kind face. Claire thought back to how Frodo had said that Aragorn had looked fowl and felt fair. That was an apt description for this fellow as well.

Faron took another draw on this pipe and leaned back in his chair. "What brings you to these parts," he asked.

"I'm traveling to Rivendell," Claire said.

"And your halfling friend?"

Claire sighed. "She's just along for the ride I suppose. We ran into each other back near the Old Forest and she insisted that she come with me to Rivendell. She would have followed me anyway if I had said no."

Faron took his pipe from his mouth and leaned forward. "She should be more careful of how she displays her wealth," he said in a grave tone. "There is a thief in Bree."

"Yeah, Butterbur warned us about that. I told her to keep her money locked up tight."

"It's not her money I'm worried about," the Ranger said. "This thief that everyone is talking about is still at large and the perpetrator is said to be a hobbit female."

Claire sat up straighter in her chair.

Faron leaned in closer. "I advise you to be very careful. Those men who were in here earlier had a considerable amount of gold stolen from them by this thief and I heard them muttering to each other about your friend. They left a few minutes ago and they were very drunk. I would be wary of them if I were you. They aren't thinking clearly."

"Thank you for telling me," Claire said. "But Prisca is in her room so she should be fine."

* * *

"Nob," Prisca called from the doorway of their room. "Could you fetch me something from the kitchen?"

No answer. Prisca peered down the hallway. The cheery hobbit was nowhere to be seen.

Prisca leaned out of the door even more. "Nob!" Again no answer came.

The supper had been good, but as soon as Claeo had left, Prisca found that she was hungry again. She knew it would be best to stay in their room, but with no answer from Nob what was she to do but walk to the kitchen herself?

The hallways seemed empty and ominous, so Prisca decided to walk across the courtyard between the wings of the inn. Stepping out into the night air, she noticed how clear the sky was. The stars were bright and she stopped for only a moment to look at them. She thought about all the times she had looked up at those same stars and dreamed of leaving the Shire for other places. Now she was living that dream and she smiled with satisfaction.

She entered the other wing and made her way to the kitchen. Prisca carefully avoided the common area where she glimpsed Claeo speaking with a man in the corner. After retrieving an apple and saying hello to Nob and his fellow hobbit co-worker Bob, she made her way back across the courtyard.

* * *

"The road ahead of you may be treacherous," Faron said as Nob brought them both a cup of tea. "I have heard reports of strange attacks beyond the edge of the wild."

"What kind of attacks," Claire asked.

"I'm not certain." The Ranger paused and took a sip from his cup. "It is hard to ascertain from the accounts. Some kind of mysterious creatures are what most say. They attack quickly and sporadically. At least that seems to be the case thus far. I would take precautions if I were you."

Claire found this news troubling. Both she and Prisca would have to be on their guard from now on. Apparently things hadn't settled down after the War as much as Claire had thought.

"Have you been to Rivendell, Faron," Claire asked, changing the subject.

"I have," he said.

"Have you ever met someone called 'The Owl'?"

Faron gave Claire a curious look. "I met her once, but she was very odd. They say that she had seen things no mortal or elf can comprehend."

Claire stared down at the crude mug of tea in her hands. "I'm supposed to speak with her when I get to Rivendell."

"Well, she is very wise and her words are true," Faron said. "Though from the way she looks, you would think she has something to hide."

"What do you mean?"

Faron smiled grimly. "You will see."

Claire frowned. This Owl person was someone who she couldn't place. Now that she was in a part of Middle-earth's history that she hadn't read about, she felt a bit lost. Last time she knew nearly everything that would happen. Now, anything was possible. If these strange occurrences west of Rivendell were any indication, there was no telling what dangerous situations they could find themselves in.

* * *

"Hey... you. Hobbit girl!"

Prisca stopped, mid-courtyard. She turned around to see the man with the wide-brimmed hat they had seen earlier. He was standing just inside the courtyard a few paces away. She would have said something, but her mouth was full of the recent bite she had taken out of her apple.

"You're the one with all that gold," he said with a bit of a slur. "Where'd ya get all that money?"

"What?" Prisca said, her mouth still full of apple.

The man walked over to her slowly. "I had 3 gold pieces stolen from me a few days ago by that wretched thief everyone talks about. And I got a suspicion I'm talking to 'er right now."

Prisca swallowed, her eyes wide with fear. "No! It wasn't me. I only just arrived."

"Liar," the man sneered. "No hobbit your age could 'ave that much money unless they stole it. You're a dirty...little...thief. And you know what we do with thieving hobbits in this town?"

Prisca was speechless. She stood frozen in place, her apple still in her hand.

"We drown 'em."

"What?" the hobbit girl squeaked. Before she could do anything, someone came from behind and thrust a large sack over her. In an instant she was enveloped in burlap and was being dragged along the ground. She screamed as loud as she could, but this only made her kidnappers drag her faster.

* * *

Both Claire and Faron heard the scream coming from the courtyard. As she ran to the door and burst out into the night air, Claire saw the shapes of three men dragging something out of the entrance of the Inn and down the road. She and the Ranger took off after them, but as they made it out onto the street, the kidnappers were nowhere to be seen.

"It seems that your friend has gotten herself in a bit of trouble," Faron said.

Claire began jogging down the street, but Faron ran up from behind and grabbed her arm.

"I know where they are taking her," the Ranger assured her. "Follow me."

Faron led Claire down to the western gate and then around the inside of the village boundary. They at last came to a large pond on the northern side of Bree. There she saw two men, one short and well built and the other tall and skinny, carrying a large burlap sack. The third man, the one with the wide-brimmed hat, stood by overseeing the situation. All three of them were laughing and obviously stone cold drunk.

The two men gripped the burlap by each end and began swaying it back and forth. They were about to toss the sack into the pond when Claire and Faron approached.

"Gentleman," Claire called out in as nonchalant a manner as she could muster; she didn't want to antagonize them further. The three men turned. The ring-leader glared at Claire and the Ranger. "Would you mind kindly releasing my friend?" Claire said.

At the sound of Claire's voice, a muffled cry came from the burlap bundle.

"We caught 'er Faron," the leader of the men said addressing the Ranger. "We caught us a theif."

"That's not the thief, Ward," Faron said in an annoyed tone. "That hobbit only arrived today and the thief has been on the loose for weeks."

"I told you she wasn't the thief," the shorter man said.

"Shut up, Bert!" Ward said. "She 'ad all that gold remember."

"Even so," Claire said sternly. "She is not your thief. Let her go."

None of the men made a move.

"I would listen to her if I were you," Faron said.

"What? This little girl?" Ward huffed. The drunk man took a step toward Claire. "You couldn't hurt nothing."

"Ward," Faron said. "You're drunk. Go home and sleep it off. And you two," he pointed at the men carrying the sack. "Bert... Ronnie... are you two so drunk that you would go along with this?"

"Ward said we'd get a share of the gold if we offed the hobbit," the taller man said.

"Yeeu both shut up," Ward slurred. He turned and walked back to the two men carrying Prisca. The hobbit gave another muffled cry and Ward gave the sack a swift kick.

"Ok, that's it," Claire said sternly. The young girl drew her sword and ignited her hands. She strode toward the three men, her brows lowered and her eyes glowing with _the sight_. Bert and Ronnie both screamed and dropped the sack on the bank of the pond. Ward reeled around only to be met with a flaming point of a sword in his face. He swore and stook a step back.

"Get out of this village and do not return!" Claire commanded. "Or I'll beat the snot out of you all and burn your faces off."

All three men fled, one of them tripping over his own feet.

As the men ran away, Claire and Faron rushed over to help Prisca. When the sack was opened, the hobbit girl tumbled out followed by a half eaten apple. Her curly hair was wrapped around her face and she quickly began to untangle herself.

"Are you alright?" Claire asked. "They didn't hurt you did they?"

"No," the hobbit said. Then Prisca saw Faron standing nearby and recoiled in alarm. "Who's that?"

"This is Faron," Claire said. "He's a friend."

"I know those men who attacked you," the Ranger said. "They've caused trouble in this village before. It'll come back to haunt them I assure you."

"Why did they run away like that," Prisca asked as she rubbed her left shoulder. She suddenly winced in pain. Apparently, her shoulder had taken the brunt of Ward's kick.

Claire glanced at Faron. She wasn't sure if telling Prisca about her Realm Jumper powers right now was the best time. Prisca didn't even know she was from another world, much less had magical glowing fire hands.

"I'll explain later," Claire said. She helped Prisca to her feet. The hobbit seemed to be unscathed except for a bruised shoulder.

As they all began to walk back to the Inn, Claire turned to the Ranger and said, "Thank you Faron."

The man nodded. "It was an honor to serve one of your repute, Venë Faeur. I hope we meet again someday."

Claire smiled. "I hope so too. If you see King Aragorn, please give him my regards."

* * *

Back in their room, Prisca was silent for a long while. Claire also didn't say anything, though she felt that they were both thinking the same thing. At last Prisca spoke.

"I suppose that's what I get for stealing from my Uncle."

"I thought you borrowed without asking?" Claire said. She was trying to be smart, but soon realized that sarcasm was the last thing Prisca needed.

"No. I _am_ a thief," the hobbit said sorrowfully. "I deserved what happened tonight."

Claire sat down on her bed and said, "Well, I wouldn't go as far as that. I'm certainly glad you weren't drowned."

"Thank you for saving me," Prisca said staring at her hands absentmindedly.

"Don't mention it," Claire said.

And with that final word, they both fell asleep.


	8. The Story and the Song

**The Story and the Song**

Early in the morning, Claire and Prisca set out from Bree. Unlike Strider and the four hobbits who had gone before them, Claire and Prisca would be staying on the main road. Claire hoped that this would make the journey easier for them since they had no horse or other beast of burden. The path was clear and the morning air was fresh, so their journey started off on a good note.

Prisca didn't seem to notice. She was still in a downcast mood from the misadventure that had taken place the night before. While a small part of Claire felt she deserved it, stealing being a serious matter, the young human also thought that trying to drown her had been overkill, even if those men had been drunk. The whole experience had been traumatizing to say the least and it was definitely showing on her hobbit friend.

After a day of walking in almost complete silence, the travelers made camp in a woody glen near the road. As night fell, Claire sat by the fire watching Prisca munch solemnly on a piece of jerky. She was still in the same downcast mood.

Claire could tell that Prisca had a few things that she was hiding. Why had she stolen the money in the first place? Why was she running away? Claire sensed that something more was going on; Prisca wasn't keeping secrets just to keep secrets. And now one of her secrets had been paraded around for all to see. Claire wasn't surprised that Prisca was weighed down with shame. Perhaps it was time to meet her halfway.

 _You perceive rightly,_ the Voice of Eru said. _Tell her who you are, yet do it slowly over time._

"Well Prisca," Claire said as she poked their fire with a stick. "Since I saved your life and all, I supposed that makes us good friends now doesn't it?"

The hobbit looked up and arched an eyebrow.

Claire took a deep breath and said, "So I think it's probably time I told you who I am."

Prisca's eyed her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well…I'm not who I appear to be. But to explain that, I need you to wrap your head around a few things first."

Claire scooched over next to where the hobbit was sitting and pointed up at the sky.

"What can you see up there?"

The hobbit followed to where she indicated. "Stars I suppose."

"Ah yes," the human said smiling. "But have you ever asked yourself 'What is beyond the stars?'"

Prisca stared up at the night sky, her eyes wide. Claire could tell that the gears in her mind were turning.

"I don't supposed I have," the hobbit said after a pause. She turned and looked at Claire with searching eyes.

Claire smiled and said slowly, "What if I told you that beyond those stars was the edge of the world. The edge of this nature, of all that exists in this realm. And beyond that edge are _other_ worlds, other natures like this one but different in certain ways. Can you wrap your mind around that?"

The hobbit nodded slowly as she looked back up at the stars. "I've heard tales of other lands...other realms before. But I've never considered if they were real."

Claire put her hands up in front of her to emphasize her next statement. "What if I told you that _I_ am from one of those _other_ worlds?"

Prisca moved to face Claire, her brown eyes wide with wonder. "You're joking," she breathed.

"I am what is called a Realm Jumper," Claire said. "A person who is sent to another world to complete a task. That's why I was here during the war all those years ago. This is my second trip to Middle-earth."

"So you're from another world," Prisca asked.

"Yes," Claire said proudly.

"That's incredible! So other worlds are a real thing?"

Claire nodded. She was glad that Prisca was picking this up so quickly. The rest of their conversation that night consisted of Claire telling Prisca more about the Realm Jumpers, but she left out the part about the special abilities. Her fire powers would be something to address later. After all, Eru said to take things slowly.

With this secret revealed to Prisca, the hobbit seemed to perk up until at last she was assaulting Claire with an unending barrage of excited questions. By then it was late and Claire promised to tell Prisca more the next day.

And that was how most of the trip went from that moment on.

* * *

"So you have ships that go to the moon?"

"They've gone a couple of times," Claeo said. "But they cost a lot of money and are very difficult to operate, but yeah. In my world people have even walked on the Moon."

Their journey from Bree was now into its second week and Prisca was loving every minute of it. Hearing about Claeo's world was fascinating. In the hobbit's mind she imagined an incredible landscape filled with fantastic buildings that reached high into the heavens. A place where people sailed through the air in long metal ships and people spoke to each other over long distances through magic called "telephones". Why would a girl like Claeo ever want to come to a boring place like Middle-earth when there were so many wonders in her own land?

This night, the two of them lay in a grassy clearing looking up at the stars. They had positioned themselves with the tops of their heads nearly touching so that they had the same vantage point. Claeo pointed out the stars and other heavenly bodies as she spoke of a place she called "Outer Space".

"See that constellation there?" Claeo said. "In my world it's called _Orion, the Hunter_ but here it is called _Menelmacar, the Swordsman of the Sky_. Middle-earth is semi-parallel to my world because our constellations are the same. My Realm Jumper friend I told you about, Elrain... she told me that the last time I was here."

"Wow," Prisca said in a whisper. "How big is Outer Space?"

"Really big," Claeo said. The young girl spread her hands out above her and said, "Space goes on for billions of miles. It's so big that light take years and years to cross it."

"So have the people in your world visited stars as well as the moon?" Prisca asked.

"No. Well not in real life. But we have a lot of stories and tales about travelers to other stars and planets."

The hobbit pulled her uncle's old coat around her tighter and said, "Oh tell me one! Tell me a tale of traveling to the stars."

Prisca couldn't see the girl's face since they were both looking skyward. She waited for a moment in silence until at last Claeo said in a dramatic tone, "I shall tell you the tale of Luke Skywalker and the War Amongst the Stars. It's a long tale told in many parts, but I'll give you the shortened version of the first part. At least the first that should be told anyway."

Claeo took a deep breath and began.

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, there was an evil empire ruled by a cruel Emperor. Alongside him was the equally vile tyrant named Darth Vader. Together they oppressed all the people of the galaxy. There was a group of people called the Jedi who fought for freedom and peace in the Galaxy. Darth Vader hunted them down and killed most of the Jedi, furthering the Empire's evil reign. The Jedi had special powers. They could move things with their minds and they used swords made of light."

"How do you move something with your mind," Prisca asked interrupting Claeo.

Claeo paused and said, "Um...I don't know. I suppose you just think about it and it happens."

"But if you had to pick up a really heavy thing," Prisca continued. "Would you just have to think really hard? Or does it not matter how heavy something is because you are using your mind?"

The young girl craned her neck back and looked at Prisca. "I don't know. It's a story ok. May I go on?"

"Yes. Sorry," the hobbit replied.

"Anyway, the Jedi could move things with their mind and fight and stuff. So this story begins when a young boy named Luke Skywalker meets this older gentleman named Obi-wan Kenobi. Together they come across a message sent by a Princess named Leia. Her message said that she had been captured by the evil Empire because she stole the plans to a weapon the Empire was building called the Death Star, a terrible machine that could destroy entire planets. Anyway, Obi-wan and Luke meet up with this guy named Han Solo, a smuggler who has the fastest starship in the galaxy called the Millenium Falcon. Together they all go rescue the Princess but in the process Obi-wan fights Darth Vader and is killed. You see, Obi-wan was one of the last Jedi, which was why Darth Vader killed him. _But_ it turns out that Luke is a Jedi too. Oh and just before they rescued her, Darth Vader and his minions used the Death Star to destroy the Princess' home planet."

"They destroyed her whole planet? How awful!"

"Yeah, that was how ruthless the Empire was. If someone disagreed with them, they just blew them up. Anyway, so they escape to a hidden base where the Rebels are. The Rebels were a group of people who were fighting back against the Empire. Princess Leia is able to give them the plans to the Death Star, but they soon realize that Darth Vader is going to use the Death Star on them and the Empire is on their way. So Luke and the other Rebels hop in their ships and have this big battle in space around the Death Star. It was a fierce battle with ships flying and lasers blasting."

"What's a laser?"

"It's like a...it's like an arrow but really powerful and made of light. Does a lot of damage if you are hit with one. Anyway, as the battle went on, things didn't look so good for the Rebels. There was a small chink in the armor of the Death Star and as each Rebel ship flew down to hit it with a laser, they got shot down. So finally Luke flies in there, but as he is getting ready to fire he hears the ghost of Obi-wan reminding him that he is a Jedi. So Luke uses his Jedi powers and hits the chink in the Death Star's armor. The whole terrible machine explodes and the Rebels are victorious."

"Wow!" Prisca said grinning from ear to ear. "What a wonderful story! I love it. Just image...a war amongst the stars. Amazing! The tales from your world sound much more interesting than the tales from here."

"I wouldn't say that," Claeo countered. "I've always loved the tales of Middle-earth. Why do you think I wanted to come here?"

Prisca sat up and looked at Claeo. "You _wanted_ to come here? How did you know about Middle-earth?"

The human sat up slowly and then said, "There is a version of the Red book in my world. Since the day I first read it, I was in love with the tale. That story changed my life."

Prisca was beside herself. "That is exactly what happened to me," she said excitedly.

Claeo cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes! Mr. Gamgee agreed to teach me to read because he knew my Father from the Battle of Hobbiton. And once I learned to read well enough, he let me read the Red Book. I've read it all the way through three times, but I don't think any number of times will be enough. I love that story so much."

Claeo laughed. There was an odd thoughtful look on the girl's face. Like she was remembering something that was important but couldn't speak of it.

"I think it's time was got some sleep," she said at last.

Prisca agreed and soon they were both curled up on either side of the smoldering campfire. Prisca's head was filled with the adventures of the brave and dashing Luke as he rescued the Princess and saved the Galaxy with his Jedi powers. She again wondered, "How does one move something with their mind?" And it was with that thought that she finally fell asleep.

* * *

The next week of their trip went smoothly. Ever did Prisca ask Claire questions about her world and ever did the young human attempt to answer them within the realm of the hobbit's comprehension.

As they entered the Trollshaws Prisca seemed particularly interested in the poetry and music from Claire's world. Yet to the hobbit's disappointment, the only poems that Claire knew by heart were from Middle-earth. There were a few that were not in the Red Book like "Bilbo's Last Song", the verse Claire had recited at the shores of the Sundering sea, but for the most part, the hobbit was familiar with Claire's favorites.

"I've always wanted to write my own poem," Prisca said as they walked along the east road. "I started on one, but I could never finish it. Nothing compares to the poems written in the Red book."

"You should finish it," Claire said. "You never know… your poem might turn out better in the end. And you shouldn't compare your work to Bilbo's poems. He as always long winded anyway."

Prisca giggled. "I suppose so."

They walked on in silence for a while until Prisca asked, "What about songs from your world?"

Claire thought for a moment. Where to start? She had always been a music enthusiast. Indeed Claire would listen to any genre except for Country and even then there were types of Country that she could tolerate. Yet, one particular song came to mind. The song that seemed to have some strange unexplained connection to her adventures in Middle-earth.

"There is one that I think you'll like. It's set to a tune that I can't seem to get away from. It goes like this:

* * *

 _Away, away, come away with me_

 _Where the grass grows wild and the winds blow free_

 _Away, away, come away with me_

 _And I'll build you a home in the meadow_

* * *

 _The stars, the stars, oh, how bright they'll shine_

 _On a world the Lord himself designed_

 _The stars, the stars, oh, how bright they'll shine_

 _On the home we will build in the meadow_

* * *

 _Come, come, there's a wondrous land_

 _For the hopeful heart and the willing hand_

 _Come, come, there's a wondrous land_

 _Where I'll build you a home in the meadow_

* * *

Prisca learned the chorus very quickly and soon the two of them were singing as they walked. There were moments that Claire would always mark as the moments when she felt most at home in Middle-earth. Times of pure joy that she didn't know were possible in a realm so foreign to her own. The first of these was when she and Peregrin had been hailed as troll slayers in Minas Tirith and her friendship with Losswen had come full circle. Now, walking down the east road with the sun bright in the sky, the cool of autumn in the air, and she and the young hobbit at her side singing...yes, this was another one of those moments.

Claire had grown very fond of Prisca. She thought back to her contemplations after the Roleplaying session back in her own world and how she had wished for a sister. Prisca was not her sister of course, but could this hobbit be the friend that Claire had always longed for? They did seem to get along pretty well. Sometimes Prisca asked too many questions and she could be a bit childish, but Claire was guilty of that herself. Yet a part of Claire's mind kept reminding her of her past friendship failures.

"You always do this," she said to herself. "You always meet somebody and then you think that they are going to be your best friend for life before you even know them very well. Take this slow. Yeah you and Prisca get along well, but surely there will be some hurdle that will screw up everything. That's always how your friendships turn out."

Claire knew this was very pessimistic, but she had always tried to balance pessimism with optimism, so she let the thought settle and then shelved it. And besides, soon they would be parting ways, so it was best not to get _too_ attached. Soon she would need to concentrate on teaching her Apprentice.

She had considered the idea that Prisca might be her Apprentice. Things on these types of missions seldom happened by coincidence. But that was an absurd idea. Yavanna had said that her Apprentice would be someone of immense power and noble blood. Prisca was none of those things. The Bagginses were noble people, but noble blood usually meant royalty didn't it? And Prisca was plucky, but she could hardly be described as powerful.

No, soon they would have to go their separate ways. It would be hard for Claire, but she would just have to suck it up like she did with all the other friends in her life that had come and gone. She had been through that pattern enough times to move on, even if it never got any easier.


	9. The Creatures

**The Creatures**

By mid-September Claire and Prisca were well out of the Trollshaw woods and drawing very close to Rivendell. Along the way Claire had told Prisca the rest of the tale of Luke Skywalker and of the ultimate redemption of Darth Vader. She left out the prequels in the telling. At this point there were only two and she figured she would let her friend revel in the original tales before addressing the earlier episodes.

As they came nearer to the Ford of Bruinen, Claire was on high alert. The account from Faron concerning strange attacks weighed heavily upon her. Her hobbit friend however was as talkative and excited as ever despite the human's demeanor.

"You know Claeo," the hobbit said. "I want to thank you for telling me who you really are. That you are a Realm Jumper and all that." Prisca's voice was quiet and thoughtful. "That's an awful lot to trust someone with."

"You're welcome," Claire said as she continued to look around them. "I figured it would be difficult for us to travel further without us being honest with each other."

"You're right," Prisca agreed. "And I know that when we get to Rivendell you probably have other things you will have to do instead of looking after me. So before we part, I want to tell you why I ran away."

Claire looked down at Prisca in surprise. The hobbit pulled a silver object from the pocket of her oversized coat. She handed it to Claire and the human took it gingerly. It was a silver pin in the shape of a six-sided flower.

"This was my birth-mother's pin. I - I'm an orphan. Well I'm not technically an orphan; I was adopted by a nice hobbit couple when I was just a baby. I was always told that my mother abandoned me on a doorstep. Just before I met you, I was staying with my Uncle. He told me that I had been lied to all my life and that he had found me _inside_ the Old Forest. I was just a baby wrapped in a blanket with this pin on it. He also said he thought he saw a woman running off into the Forest."

Claire was astonished. Putting two and two together, she said, "So you ran away to the Old Forest to find your birth mother. That's why you were wandering around all by yourself."

Prisca nodded. "That pin is the only clue I have to my past. But I suppose wandering around in the Old Forest wouldn't have done anything anyway. It was a bad plan. Stealing from my Uncle was a bad idea too."

Claire handed the pin back to Prisca and the hobbit put it back in her pocket.

"Why don't you wear it," Claire asked. "Maybe someday you'll meet someone who recognizes it. And besides, it's very beautiful. Maybe it's a family heirloom."

"Do you really think so?" the hobbit said staring at the pin. "It's rather plain to be terribly valuable."

Claire smiled. She was seeing this hobbit in a whole new light now. "I think you should wear it proudly," she said.

Prisca smiled back at Claire. She pinned the silver object to the collar of her blue dress and beamed with pride. "It does look nice doesn't it."

But Claire didn't respond. She had heard something behind them. Turning to look, she felt her heart leap in her chest. "Laemellon?" she thought to herself. Yet the longer she looked at the figure standing in the road no more than 50 feet behind them, the more she realized it was not her Vanaloke friend.

The creature was black as tar. It was so black that from this distance she could see nothing but a silhouette, a dark shape that looked out of place amongst the bright green of the forest. It had two horns and a horse-like head, very much like a vanaloke. Its arms and legs were also very similar, but this creature had no wings.

Prisca turned to look where Claire was gawking. She too froze in surprise staring at the creature. Claire hadn't mentioned Laemellon to Prisca yet. Describing her dragonish friend would probably come along with an explanation of her Realm Jumper powers.

"What is that?" the hobbit whispered hoarsely.

Then the creature turned and looked at them. In turning, it got down on all fours and Claire could now clearly observe the row of spikes jutting from its back. The creature wore black ragged clothing that hung from its limbs and dragged on the ground. But Claire and Prisca weren't focused on its clothing. They were transfixed by its eyes. They were blood red and horrible to look upon. For a moment Claire thought the beast's eyes had been gouged out, but then it blinked and its slitted pupils expanded.

Claire had no idea what this creature might be, but she had a good guess. Yet before she could even think about it, the thing bent low to the ground like a cat ready to spring and the spikes along its spine lay flat against its back. The red eyes were still fixed on the two travelers.

"We need to run," Claire said flatly.

"What?" Prisca squeaked.

"Run!" Claire commanded as she grasped the hobbit's hand in her's.

Claire took off down the road with Prisca in tow. The hobbit couldn't keep up very well and at times Claire felt like she was dragging her along the dirt path. Claire hated running, but after she looked behind them, she had fresh motivation. The creature wasn't alone anymore. There were more of them and they were pursuing on all fours like huge lunging cats. Such a dread came over Claire that she began praying aloud as they ran.

"Dear God!" she panted. "Please let the ford be close!"

As if in answer to her prayers, the end of the treeline came into view and beyond it was the low rocky section of the river. The surrounding lands must have been in a drought, for the water was no more than a few inches deep. Claire said a silent prayer of thanks as she and the hobbit reached the bank.

Without a moment's thought, Claire ran across the ford pulling the stumbling hobbit after her. Suddenly Prisca screamed and the girl's hand was wrenched from Claire's. Turning, Claire saw that Prisca's ankle had been caught between two rocks on the river bed. The hobbit was laying in the shallow rushing water, her face twisted in anguish.

* * *

Hot tears of pain welled up in Prisca's eyes as she tried to get her ankle free. She looked behind her and saw the creatures on the riverbank. In an instant, the pain in her ankle was the last thing on her mind. One of the creatures was crossing the river and coming straight for her. It lept in the air, black claws outstretched, blood red eyes wide, its mouth agape and filled with razor sharp teeth. Prisca tried to cry out but her throat had gone dry. Death was in mid-leap and ready to tear her apart.

In a blink-and-you'll-miss-it-moment, a figure stepped forward and the creature was sliced in two. Brilliant blue flames burst from its shoulder down to its hip as one half of the monster flew in one direction and the second half in the other. The two halfs splashed on either side of the hobbit.

The figure who had slain the beast turned and looked down at Prisca. She recognized the bright burning eyes that she had seen for an instant in the Old Forest. Prisca had thought that it had been her imagination playing tricks on her, but now she knew that her supposition was incorrect. Claeo _did_ have glowing blue eyes. The human girl brandished her burning hands and flaming sword, Prisca felt an awe mixed with terror that she had never experienced before.

Claeo turned her burning gaze to the other creatures on the river bank and spoke.

* * *

"Stay back!" Claire commanded.

The creatures on the river bank hesitated for a moment...and then they all began to run toward them at the same time. Claire had easily taken out one of them when it had leapt at her hobbit friend, but now at least 15 were headed for them simultaneously.

Claire swore internally and thought, "This won't end well."

Claire pulled back her firey sword ready to strike as one of the creatures leapt towards them. But before the beast reached her, there was a distinct _thunk_ and it suddenly fell dead with an arrow between its eyes. Arrows hissed by Claire's head, so close that they stirred up her hair. Each creature fell into the shallow river as the arrows thunked into their skulls. Within seconds every one of the terrible beasts lay dead.

Then a voice called out from behind them on the eastern side of the bank.

"You certainly have a knack for getting yourself into trouble."

Claire turned. Behind them was a troop of elves all with bows at the ready. From out of the crowd stepped a particularly tall elf with long black hair and wearing a long black high collared coat.

"Elrain!" Claire cried. She had wondered if she might see her old friend on this trip. As usual the elf's timing was impeccable.

Elrain strode forward into the shallow riverbed and embraced Claire tightly.

"It is so good to see you my friend!" the elf said smiling. "I often wondered if you would ever return to Middle-earth."

Elrain looked down at Prisca. The hobbit was soaked to the skin and staring up at the elf with wide eyes.

"Are you hurt," Elrain asked as she leaned down to examine Prisca's ankle. The hobbit didn't answer; she was still in shock from what had just happened. They carefully dislodged the hobbit's ankle from the stones and Elrain examined it gingerly.

"It doesn't look broken," she said. "Probably just a bad sprain. Here...let me help you."

Prisca's shocked demeanor continued as Elrain hoised the hobbit up in her arms and carried her from the river and onto the bank. The elf called for a horse and when another elf led it over to them, Elrain set Prisca on the saddle.

"We can treat and wrap your ankle in Rivendell. What is your name?"

"P - Prisca," the hobbit stammered.

"Prisca, this is my friend I told you about," Claire interjected as she stood beside the elf. "This is Elrain."

"I'll let you go ahead of us with the other elves," Elrain said to the bewildered hobbit. "They will take good care of you."

Prisca nodded silently. Claire laid a reassuring hand on her arm. She smiled and said, "You made it, Prisca. You made it to Rivendell."

That put a smile on the hobbit's face. One of the elves led the horse away as most of the group began to make their way to Rivendell. Elrain and Claire hung back for a moment catching up.

"I have a million questions," Claire breathed, still amazed at seeing Elrain again. "How have you been?"

"Same as always," Elrain said. "Though it has been quite a while by my count since I last saw you. I've been on a few missions since the Grey Havens."

The elves were gathering up the dead creatures into a pile to burn them. Claire walked over to one of the corpses.

"What in all of Middle-earth are these things?"

"We aren't exactly sure," Elrain said as she looked down at the body. "They have been waylaying travelers for some time. They haven't attacked everyone however. They are extremely unpredictable. They wear clothes like civilized people, but they are nothing but a rabble of disorganized brutes."

"But they look like…" Claire's voice trailed off. The thought was too impossible to explain.

"They look like Vanaloki," Elrain said. "I thought the same. If you remember, I too was there when Laemellon recounted the history of her people. I suppose these could be the long lost vanaloki that crossed the sea against Eru's wishes. But what kind of horror could have deformed them in such a manner?"

"By the way, where is Laemellon," Claire asked. The last time she had seen her Vanaloke companion she had been in Rivendell with plans to stay.

"She left a few months ago," Elrain said. "It was before I returned. I was told that she left in a hurry."

Claire was disappointed at this. "Do you know where she went?"

Elrain shook her head. "I do not. But don't fret. I'm sure you will meet her again in your travels."

The last of the corpses was dragged into the pile. One of the elves bearing a torch lit it and the bodies went up like matchwood. The stench was overwhelming.

"Let's make our way up to the house," Elrain said placing a hand on Claire's shoulder. The girl nodded and the two friends began to walk along the path and down into the valley.

"So what brings you back to Middle-earth," Elrain asked. "Don't tell me someone else is trying to change history."

Claire smirked and said, "I don't think it's that complicated this time. I'm supposed to talk to someone in Rivendell called 'The Owl' about an apprentice I'm supposed to train."

Elrain's face became troubled. "You are here to see the Owl?"

"Yes. She is the one who is supposed to introduce me to my apprentice and then give me further instructions."

"Why do you need an apprentice," Elrain asked with a puzzled look.

"That's what I was wondering. But neither Yavanna or even Eru Himself is willing to tell me. All I know is that this person is 'one of immense power and nobility'…. Whatever that means. So do you know this 'Owl' person?"

"I do," Elrain said. "Do you remember my 'informant'? The person who told me to go punch Morlyg in the face for you?"

Claire nodded.

"Well... they are one in the same."

"Really? So you and the Owl go way back then?"

Elrain chuckled. "You could say that."

"We met this Dunadan Ranger in Bree who said that the Owl has seen things that neither mortals or elves can comprehend. She sounds intimidating."

"Well you will see her eventually," Elrain said. "She has been living in Rivendell since the end of the war. Elledan and Elrohir, Elrond's sons, care for Rivendell now. I was told that they have allowed her to live here."

"But who is she?" Claire pressed. "Is she a seer? Yavanna said she had seen both what has been and will be. From what you told me about this person the last time, it would seem that's the case."

"You will see when you meet her," Elrain said quickly. "I - I do not know a whole lot about her. She is...odd. Let's talk about other matters. Who is your hobbit friend?"

"Oh...Prisca," Claire chuckled. "Yeah, I found her wandering around the Old Forest all by herself. She was running away from home and when I told her I was going to Rivendell, she begged me to let her tag along."

"She hasn't seen any elves before in all her life has she," Elrain asked with a grin.

Claire chuckled. "Yeah. She has been quite a handful. She nearly got herself murdered by ruffians in Bree. I had to put the fear of God in them by showing off my flaming hands. She also has never seen my Realm Jumper abilities before today. I told her who I was, but I still have a lot of explaining to do."

Changing the subject, Claire then asked, "Speaking of which, what brings _you_ back to Middle-earth?"

Elrain's gaze was downcast. "That is a matter best left for later. We shall have to have tea like old times and I'll tell you all about it."

As Claire and Elrain arrived at the gates of Rivendell, they found the doors guarded. None of the strange creatures had ventured this close, but the elves weren't taking any chances. After they were allowed to enter, they found Prisca still atop the horse. The hobbit was finishing a lively conversation with one of the elves as they approached.

"Feeling better," Claire asked her hobbit friend.

"Oh yes," Prisca said excitedly. "Claeo, did you know that the elves still celebrate Mr. Bilbo's birthday? It's in a few days and there's going to be a feast. That elf I was just talking to said I could recite some poetry during the celebration if I like."

"That's great," Claire said. She was glad to see the hobbit in a lighter mood.

Claire was going to say something more, but the words were lost as she looked up at one of the balconies above the courtyard. High on a terrace stood a figure that caught her eye. Prisca turned to see what she was looking at and gasped at the sight. The figure was a woman wearing a long white floor-length dress that had a tight high collar. The sleeves of her dress were long and ended in white gloves. Yet the most striking thing about her was her face, or rather lack thereof. She wore a mask which was also white. It had sharp edges and a simple design. The pointed nose and slitted eyes of the metal, framed by the woman's short white hair, gave her the distinct likeness of an owl.

"That's her," Elrain said in Claire's ear.

Claire stared up at the woman. It was impossible to read her expression of course, but Claire could have sworn that there was something familiar about her. Something so subtle, she couldn't put her finger on it. However, before she could figure it out, the woman in white turned and vanished inside the house.


	10. The Owl

**The Owl**

After being introduced to Elledan and Elrohir, Prisca's ankle was seen to and wrapped in a bandage. Then the two travelers were shown to their rooms. Prisca and Claire had their own individual rooms in Rivendell and Claire had to admit that a break from the neverending stream of questions was nice. They had arrived in Rivendell just after noon, but that didn't stop Claire from falling asleep as soon as she layed down on her bed.

A few hours later there came a soft knock on the door. An elf handed her a note. Upon opening it, Claire found that it was a summons. It said that she was to speak with the Owl tomorrow night at 9pm on the northern terrace.

"Well that's convenient," Claire muttered to herself.

By then the air was warm with the afternoon sun and Claire fancied a walk like she used to take in the old days. After changing out of her traveling clothes and into a fresh dress she found hanging in the closet of her room, she ventured out. She had hoped to find Elrain, but instead found Prisca. The hobbit was sitting on a bench staring out at the waterfalls. She too wore a new dress that the elves had quickly modified for her. The silver flower was pinned neatly on the right side of her dress collar. The only thing that seemed out of the ordinary was her foot which was wrapped in a heavy cloth bandage.

Claire sat down next to Prisca and joined her in staring out at the valley below.

"You look nice," Prisca remarked.

"Thanks. So do you. How's your foot?"

The hobbit continued to stare into the distance. "It's fine," she said flatly.

Claire could tell that the elephant in the room had to be addressed, so she took the initiative.

"I suppose you are wondering what happened back there? I was going to tell you eventually, but I thought that explaining my Realm Jumper powers needed to be one of the last things I addressed." The hobbit remained silent. "However, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," Claire added.

"I'm not mad," Prisca said. "I'm just disappointed that I was so pathetic."

"Pathetic?" Claire exclaimed. "What makes you think that?"

The hobbit rubbed her hands absentmindedly. "Ever since I first read the Red Book, I wanted to be the hero of my own story. To have a...a destiny. Like Luke Skywalker being destined to be a Jedi. To have a purpose. But I'm just a hobbit who can't even run across a riverbed without getting my foot caught."

"I think you are being too hard on yourself," Claire said trying to comfort her.

"Well, when you leave on your mission, just promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"Don't forget me."

Claire gave her a puzzled look. "Why would I forget you?"

Prisca shrugged. "You're a Realm Jumper and a rather important person…"

"I'm not famous, Prisca," Claire said. "And I'll never forget you. I can honestly say you are one of the best friends I've had in all of Middle-earth."

"Really?" The hobbit looked up at her and at that moment Claire hated that they would have to go their separate ways. She had never experienced this kind of reciprocated friendship before.

"Really," Claire said.

* * *

That evening after Prisca had long gone to bed, Elrain and Claire sat in the garden near the guest house drinking tea. There were lanterns glowing in the trees and the distant sound of the elves singing made the scene all the more ethereal. Yet the subject matter that Elrain relayed was less than magical.

"I suppose I should tell you about what has been going on with the other Realm Jumpers," Elrain said setting down her tea. Her black brows were drawn together in a grave expression. "There is an Abberator on the loose."

"An Abberator?" Claire questioned as she sipped her tea.

"A rogue Realm Jumper," Elrain clarified. "Someone who is traveling between realms with ill intent. He is...well he is one of the most formidable enemies any of us have ever encountered. I haven't actually met him. Very few have and lived to tell the tale. He takes great pleasure in killing Realm Jumpers."

"That's terrible!"

"Not as terrible as you might think. Remember how I told you that Realm Jumpers can cheat death? Well that has been quite the advantage in dealing with this fellow. There's really no limit to how many times the same Jumper can face him and be killed. Unless they use the Ravenholm option of course. Some have gone to that extreme."

"The what?" Claire said. "What's the Raven-home option?"

Elrain sighed. "Oh I haven't told you about that have I? I apologize. Let me back up. You see, since you and I last met, I have found out more information on how the 'return from death' works for Realm Jumpers. I knew very little about it the last time we spoke. If you remember, I said that if you are killed in a world that is not your home world, you can come back."

"Yeah and you have to change your name right?" Claire said.

"Yes. Good, you remember that much. Well, to return to the world that you died in, you must wait 40 of that world's days. You cannot return before that time. So it has been a problem in that if a Jumper had his eyes on the Abberator and was killed, he couldn't return until 40 days later and by then the Abberator would be gone. That's why many of the Realm Jumpers have started traveling in pairs so that if one is killed, the other can continue to track the rogue."

Elrain paused and sipped her tea. "Millennia ago, there was a very eccentric Realm Jumper by the name of Ravenholm. The story goes that he was in a dire situation and was killed while on mission. He went back 40 days later, but was killed again. He was so desperate that he implored Eru to let him return earlier than 40 days. To his surprise, his wish was granted with some caveats. He could return to moments after his death, but he would only have 3 days to fix things. And then after that, he had to leave and never return to that world ever again."

"Like never ever," Claire asked.

"Never _ever_ ," Elrain repeated. "A small price to pay if the entire world is at stake. It is also said that Realm Jumpers who use the Ravenholm option are granted enhanced abilities. I haven't witnessed this first hand, but I suppose that makes it especially useful in emergencies, yet still costly. Anyway, when Ravenholm's request was answered, word spread and Eru granted this option to all Realm Jumpers. It's a risky play, but I have been told that it has been used in the past under certain circumstances."

Elrain set down her cup of tea and added, "There is one additional caveat to the Ravenholm option."

"And what is that," Claire asked.

"The Ravenholm option can only be used when a Realm Jumper has died twice in the same world just like the original Ravenholm did. It's beside the point, but that explains what that is. That just shows how dire the situation is getting, that people are resorting to such extremes to catch the Aberrator."

"So what does the Abberator have to do with your mission," Clarie asked.

Elrain looked up at the stars for a moment and sighed. At last she said, "I am here to see the Owl as well. I was told to speak to her before my next mission. I'm going to be assigned to pursuing the Abberator until he is caught."

They were both silent for a moment.

"Sounds dangerous," Claire said looking down at her tea cup. "How long will that take?"

"Eru only knows," Elrain said. "Before I came here, I got word that the Abberator had destroyed an entire world."

"What?" Claire said sitting up straighter. "Did he use a realm spell like the Deplorable Word?"

"He must have," Elrain said turning to Claire, her eyes filled with concern. "The world was called Lylara. I had been there before in its very early days. Details are not yet known as to how or why he did it. I have a few friends looking into that."

"Do you think this guy might come to Middle-earth," Claire asked. "Or even…"

Elrain looked at Claire knowingly. "Or even your own world. It's a possibility. But that is why I have been specially assigned to track him. Before Lylara was destroyed the Realm Jumpers were just keeping an eye out for him. But things have gotten out of hand. Horrifically so."

Elrain leaned back in her chair. She made a tepee with her fingers and said lightly, "So that's why I'm here."

"Well," Claire said. "I never imagined it was so serious."

"Claeo, when intervention from another realm is needed, it's always serious."

* * *

The next night Claire was getting ready to meet the Owl. In addition to this, she would be meeting her apprentice for the first time and that thought filled her with a mixture of excitement and dread. Would a person of "immense power and nobility" even take instruction from her? She examined her young face in the mirror. Claire was now 15, but she felt older. She wondered if it was because she had spent an extra year of her life in Middle-earth, but had not aged in her own world.

After brushing her hair and straightened her dress, Claire walked from the guest house to the main building of Rivendell. The moon was high in the sky and the fast moving waterfalls glowed with the blue light of evening. The breath-taking sight encouraged her and she quickened her steps.

The Northern Terrace was a wide balcony that was open to the night sky. When Claire arrived, she found the Owl standing at the edge of the terrace framed by the beautiful vista of waterfalls and mountains behind her. The white dress she wore glowed in the moonlight and her white metal mask subtly reflected the light of the stars. Standing next to her was Elledan, one of the sons of Elrond. He was dressed in robes similar to his father, yet newer and more conventional.

Claire stepped closer to the two of them. Then Elledan spoke.

"Thank you for coming, Venë Faeur," he said. "Your presence is appreciated. The Owl thanks you for your timeliness."

Claire eyed the woman in white suspiciously. "With all due respect," she said. "Can the Owl not welcome me herself?"

"I speak for the Owl," Elledan said with polite firmness. "She -"

The Owl raised a gloved hand and Elledan fell silent. Who was this woman that she could order a son of Elrond around like this? The Owl turned her masked face towards Claire.

"If the young woman wishes me to speak, I shall." Her voice was low and distorted by the mask over her face. "I think that she can better comprehend my words than most."

Elledan bowed in acknowledgement and remained silent.

"I know why you have come Venë Faeur," the Owl said slowly. The cold gaze of the birdlike mask gave Claire a shiver as she spoke. "You seek direction for your journey and to know who your apprentice shall be."

"Yes, my Lady," Claire said politely. "I was told that you would tell me where to go from here."

The Owl nodded. "You must journey to Minas Tirith. Seek the one who calls to you."

There was a long pause. Claire blinked and then asked hesitantly, "Um...is that it? What..what am I supposed to do in Minas Tirith exactly?"

The Owl stared at her. Claire thought she heard the woman chuckle softly.

"You shall see in time," she said.

Good grief! Was that the answer to every question on this trip. Claire almost spoke her mind, but was interrupted by the upraised hand of the Owl.

"Are you ready to meet your apprentice?"

Claire's disposition brightened. "Yes. Yes I am."

The Owl's white gloved hand stretched out slowly and pointed behind Claire. The young girl turned and what she saw left her speechless.

There stood Prisca Baggins leaning on a small crutch the elves had given her. The hobbit was gazing in wide-eyed awe past Claire at the Owl. In Prisca's hand was a note much like the summons Claire had received.

"No," Claire uttered softly. "That can't be."

Prisca hobbled up next to Claire and curtsied to the Owl. Apparently the bandages on her ankle were more like a cast than anything else which allowed her to walk along very gently with the use of a small crutch. The woman in white gave a small bow in return.

"Thank you for coming Prisca," the woman said.

"Thank you m'lady," the hobbit replied. She glanced up at Claire who was still staring at her in confusion. There had to be some kind of mistake. _She_ was Claire's apprentice? Claire had suspected it, but had wrote it off as ridiculous wishful thinking. Prisca simply didn't fit the description.

"If I may ask," Prisca said. "Why am I here? I received this note, but I don't know what this is all for."

Elledan glanced at the Owl as she stepped closer to the hobbit. Looking down at Prisca with her cold metallic gaze she said, "You Prisca Baggins are here because you are more than you appear to be."

The hobbit stared up at her puzzled.

"You are a Realm Jumper."

Claire was beside herself. This definitely had to be a mistake. She started to interject, but the Owl continued speaking. The hobbit in front of her took her words in with a wide-eyed expression of utter wonder.

"You are to be the Venë Faeur's apprentice. Your task is to learn from her. She shall teach you what it means to be a Realm Jumper as you both make your way to Minas Tirith. May you learn to know the grace and power of Eru and thus fulfill your destiny."

Claire couldn't stand it any longer.

"Now hold on a minute -"

She was cut off by a sudden squeal of delight that emanated from the hobbit's throat. Prisca's hands were balled under her chin in excitement as she softly gasped, "I have a destiny?"

Now the Owl laughed loud enough for them both to hear.

"Indeed you do, little one," the Owl said. "But the road ahead will not be easy. You must pass through much darkness to reach your ultimate purpose."

Prisca looked as if she might burst with excitement.

"How do you know?" Claire finally interjected. "How do you know she's my apprentice?"

The Owl pointed at the silver pin on Prisca's dress collar. "Eru revealed to me the one who was to be the apprentice of the Venë Faeur. She who bears the silver six petaled flower is destined for that purpose."

The woman turned away from Prisca and Claire. Apparently she was done talking to them.

"That is all the Owl has to relay to you," Elledan said. "Go in peace."

Claire and Prisca began to walk back to the guest house. Prisca didn't stop talking until they at last went to their individual rooms. She was so excited, she could hardly form a coherent sentence. Claire had faked some enthusiasm, but the shock of the whole encounter with the Owl and the things she had said still bewildered her.


	11. The Mysteries Deepen

**The Mysteries Deepen**

"It just doesn't make sense, Elrain. What is happening and what Yavanna told me are not matching up."

It was the day after Claire's meeting with the Owl and she and Elrain were currently sifting through the contents of the Rivendell library. In preparation for her journey, Claire remembered that Laemellon had promised to leave the calling stone for her in Rivendell. In the past, when Elrain had been in Rivendell after the war, Laemellon had shown the elf where she kept the stone. Yet when Elrain had taken Claire to the place where Laemellon had shown her, the calling stone was nowhere to be found.

Since Laemellon was the only one besides Elrain who knew where it was, they surmised she must have taken it. The vanaloke had spent most of her time in Rivendell in the library, so they thought that she might have left it there in the midst of her hasty exit from the valley. So far they hadn't had any luck finding it.

As Claire looked behind books on shelves and Elrain rummaged through desk drawers, the young human had been expressing the contradiction that was pressing on her mind.

"Well how do you know Prisca isn't powerful," Elrain asked. "She doesn't know her birth parents. Perhaps she is a long lost princess?"

Claire huffed indignantly. "Oh give me a break," she said. "That sounds too good to be true; exactly like something Prisca would have come up with."

"I seem to remember traveling with a young girl who said something very similar about her own story. She said things were too perfect and that it all had to be a dream."

Claire looked over at Elrain and made a face. The elf smirked. "Why can't Prisca have her own impossible story and be a Realm Jumper with powers of her own?" the elf mused. "Stranger things have happened. Granted she doesn't have a Realm Jumper ring, but it's not uncommon for Realm Jumpers to receive them later during their first mission."

"I suppose," Claire said. She paused. A thought occurred to her and she stood up straight. "Hold on a second…" The young girl slowly walked over to where Elrain was now sitting. As the elf leafed through the cluttered pages on one particularly disorganized desk, Claire sat down across from her.

"How can Prisca possibly be a Realm Jumper?"

"What do you mean," Elrain asked still leafing through the papers in front of her.

"I mean Prisca is from Middle-earth. She's a hobbit."

"So?"

"So…" Claire said. "Prisca has never been to the Wood Between the Worlds."

Elrain stopped. She looked up at Claire and at last seemed to understand what the girl was getting at. "Are you sure she hasn't?"

"Elrain, the hobbit told me she'd never been out of the Shire before now. I think she would remember going to the Wood Between the Worlds."

The elf rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "This is a mystery." After a moment of thinking she said, "Well that can only mean one thing."

"What's that?"

"Prisca entered or traveled through the Wood Between the Worlds when she was an infant."

Claire frowned. "What?"

Elrain stood and tapped a stack of papers on the table to straighten them. "If she can't remember going to the Wood Between the Worlds, she must have been exposed to it when she was a baby." The elf paused and looked back at Claire. "Though to my knowledge that is generally discouraged amongst Realm Jumpers."

"Why is that," Claire asked rising from her chair.

"Well, if you remember, I told you that Realm Jumpers get their abilities from exposure to the Wood."

"Yes, and they use the power of Eru to activate them."

Elrain nodded. "Well, it has been observed that the younger a person is, the greater their abilities will be. There are degrees of power that can depend on the amount of exposure to the Wood one receives. Such early exposure could have unpredictable results."

Claire's eyebrows lowered. Did this elf mean what she thought she meant?

"Are you telling me that Prisca could have really powerful Realm Jumper abilities because she went to the Wood as a baby?"

Elrain set down the stack of paper. She looked up at Claire with those hard green eyes of hers. "She wouldn't have just really powerful abilities. If she was taken to the Wood as an infant...her abilities would be...well, immense. Colossal. Unfathomable. Whatever word suits you. She would be one of the most powerful Realm Jumpers who has ever lived."

The elf strode over to Claire and patted her on the shoulder. Elrain smiled playfully and said, "And congratulations. You get to train her."

Claire stood stiffly as Elrain rummaged through another desk.

"Are you kidding me? How can you make light of this?"

"Oh I'm very serious," Elrain said. "But if there is one thing I've learned in all my years of Realm Jumping it's this: When faced with a seemingly impossible situation, the choice is yours whether to laugh or cry. And I must say that you of all people having to train potentially the most powerful Realm Jumper in history is quite amusing."

Claire sat down at one the desks and put her head in her hands. "I can't do this Elrain. From day one, I've been dreading this. I can't teach her to be a Realm Jumper. I'm not responsible enough to teach anyone."

"But you're teaching her about things you know. You just have to teach her what I taught you. Feel free to steal from my lessons if you like."

"Yes, but you haven't traveled with this girl. She's all about the stories and poems in the Red book. She has a lot of book knowledge, but not a lot of practical sense. She doesn't take things seriously."

Elrain blinked at Claire with a deadpan expression. Claire looked up at her and her eyes grew wide.

"Oh my gosh. This was how you felt when you were teaching me wasn't it?" Claire put her face back in her hands regretfully as the irony sank in.

The elf came and sat down next to Claire. "Claeo my friend, this is something you cannot avoid. The older and more experienced you get, the more people will look to you for guidance. I said it in the past and I'll say it again: I have the utmost confidence in you. Trust in Eru and He will guide you just as He guided me."

"Thanks Elrain," Claire said.

"You're welcome. And look on the bright side: better to train someone you know rather than a stranger. You two seem to get along quite well."

Claire sat back in her chair and said, "Truthfully Elrain, she is just like me in more ways than I can count." She paused and said thoughtfully, "Back in my own world I've always longed for a best friend. A sister of sorts. After traveling with Prisca I started to wonder if she might be that person. Though I always imagined they would be older than me."

"Well she is older than you. She's 23."

"Yeah, but maturity-wise she's younger. You know how hobbit's age slower."

Elrain smiled. She walked over to Claire. Resting a hand on the girl's shoulder she said, "Well then just think of her as your younger/older sister."

The elf looked around the Library woefully. "It seems that the calling stone is nowhere to be found. Laemellon must have taken it with her when she left."

"But why would she do that," Claire questioned. "She said she would leave it here for me."

The elf shrugged. "Another mystery."

* * *

Prisca Baggins was in heaven. Not only did she now have a destiny just like Luke Skywalker, but she was also going to be a Realm Jumper just like Claeo. All her wildest dreams were coming true too quickly for her to fathom. All of the next day she had wanted to talk to Claeo about their journey, but the young human was busy "making preparations for the trip". Prisca surmised that Claeo needed a break from questions for a while so she didn't push the matter. There would be plenty of time for questions on their journey to Minas Tirith.

And speaking of Minas Tirith, my wouldn't Peregrin be surprised when they got there just after he did. All attempts to catch up to him were pointless now. Now she would be traveling there on assignment too. Prisca imagined herself sauntering through the gates, attendants parting before her as she entered the City of Kings. How gloriously epic it would all be.

That night Prica found that she couldn't sleep. She had hardly slept the night before after the meeting with the Owl and now she was wide awake with excitement again. But instead of tossing and turning, the hobbit decided to get up and walk around a bit. She had done enough sitting with her foot being hurt and she thought a short walk would do her good. No danger of drunk ruffians attacking her in Rivendell.

She took up the small crutch the elves had given to her and stepped out of the guest house. On the outer walkway of the main house, she found a place with a nice view of the valley. As she stood looking out on the moonlit scene, movement to her left caught her eye. Down a long pillared hallway she saw the Owl walking alone. Curious, the hobbit hobbled quietly behind a nearby pillar. She peered around the edge to get a better look at the tall figure. She found this woman very mysterious and intriguing.

"Having trouble sleeping?"

Prisca nearly jumped out of her skin. The Owl stopped walking and turned. Her metallic visage fixed upon Prisca. "I too have trouble sleeping. Walk with me dear one."

The hobbit came timidly forward and began hobbling along side the Owl.

"Where did you get that silver pin," the Owl asked.

"It was my mother's," Prisca said timidly. "It was on me when they found me as a baby."

"A clue to the past," the Owl muttered.

The Owl turned and entered a room off to their right. Prisca stood in the doorway, peering in cautiously, but then followed the Owl inside when she was bidden too. It looked like a private study. The room was small, cozy, and lined with shelves laden with books and manuscripts. At the far end of the room was a chair sitting next to a window. Beside that was an end table with a small box set on it. As the Owl bent to retrieve the box, Prisca noticed a curiously marked wooden staff leaning against the lone chair. The writing was foreign to her and she wondered what such an implement was used for.

The Owl held the the small box in her gloved hands and opened it. Reaching inside, she produced a small green stone. It shimmered in the dim moonlight from the window. The Owl offered the stone to Prisca and the hobbit took it.

"This you must keep near to you, but once you leave Rivendell, do not let it touch your skin." The Owl bent close to Prisca and whispered, "They can hear you."

"I don't understand," the hobbit said nervously.

"You must not tell Claeo that you have this stone. Even if she asks for it. When you meet the one who has its counterpart, you may present it to her."

Prisca examined the stone in her hand. It wasn't very impressive. She wanted a better explanation, but looking up at the expressionless mask of the Owl, she didn't think she would get one.

"You must be brave, Prisca," the Owl said. "Do not let your past harden your heart to what you know to be true."

With that word, the Owl led Prisca out of the study. The woman nodded to her and the hobbit took it as a sign that it was time for her to move on. As Prisca stepped gingerly back to her room, she couldn't help feeling confused by what had just happened. Perhaps this was a sort of test? Her first real assignment as a Realm Jumper?

When she returned to her room, Prisca deposited the green gemstone into her pouch of money. She didn't plan on spending any more of it so the stone would be safe with the rest of the gold coins until she found its "counterpart". Whatever that meant.

* * *

As the Owl and the hobbit had talked, Elrain stood hiding in the shadow of a nearby hallway. The woman and the hobbit had gone out of the elf's sight when they had entered the small study. Elrain strained to hear what they were saying, but to no avail. When Prisca and the Owl came out of the study and the hobbit left, the Owl stood watching her walk down the hall and out of sight. When the hobbit was gone, Elrain stepped out of her hiding place and the tall woman turned.

"I suppose I can't sneak up on you can I?" Elrain said lightly.

The Owl acknowledged her coldly. "You were told to come speak to me before you pursue the Abberator." Her words were in the form of a statement rather than a question. "I cannot tell you anything you do not already know. That is the way of things. But Eru has bid me remind you that victory does not come without sacrifice."

"Noted," the elf said flatly. Elrain had been quite annoyed when she had been told to speak to this woman. She had personal reasons to avoid the Owl.

After a long pause Elrain asked, "You know who Prisca Baggins really is don't you?"

The Owl nodded. Elrain crossed her arms and sighed frustratedly. "I don't see the point of us talking. I've never been comfortable speaking with you since the day we first interacted."

Again the Owl nodded. "It goes without saying, but I feel the same."

Elrain laughed. "Look at us. You and your fancy put on act." The elf waved her hands in a mocking manner and said "'Oooohhh you can call me the Owl'. Where did you get an idea like that?"

"Where do you think?"

Elrain's jaw dropped. "No!" she said taking a step back. "You know that won't work…"

"Oh but it did," the woman said drawing close to Elrain. "You should be more careful. Do not forget who you are speaking to."

After a moment of silence, Elrain said, "How did you get like this? What happened to you?"

The Owl turned away from Elrain. "Consequences for going against the law of Eru."

Elrain backed away. Her eyes were wide with concern. "No, you...why are you telling me this?"

"Because Elrain," the Owl said softly. "Victory does not come without sacrifice."

The Owl turned away from the elf. Yet before she walked away, her back now to Elrain, she said, "Remind me Elrain. Remind an older woman why you never asked Claeo why her home world was sanctioned against Realm Jumpers?"

"You're telling me you don't remember," Elrain asked indignantly.

The Owl's back was still to the elf. "Indulge me," she said in a monotone voice.

Elrain sighed with frustration. "I never asked her because Eru told me that she didn't know the answer. Asking her would only cause confusion."

"And this still frustrates you?"

"Of course it does."

"That is correct," the Owl said. "Claeo does not know why her world is silent." The woman slowly turned, her metal gaze resting on the elf before her. "But someday you shall."

Elrain stared at the Owl with wide eyes. She knew that what the Owl said was true, but if she read her right, the implications were dire. Elrain's knees felt weak and she leaned on a nearby pillar. "I wish we had never met," she said.

"As do I."

With that final word, the Owl turned, walked down the hall, and was gone from Elrain's sight.

* * *

Soon Bilbo's birthday was upon them. After the great feast, Prisca and what elves were left in Rivendell gathered in the Hall of Fire. Prisca stood before them and recited the poem "Earendil was a Mariner" in its entirety. Claire smiled as the hobbit girl recited the verses word for word. She was impressed. Claire hadn't even tried to memorize that one. In her copy of _The Lord of the Rings_ the poem was nearly 3 pages long.

Yet as the hobbit girl went on and on about Earendil and his boat of timber with sails of silver fair, Claire couldn't help notice the stark difference from the last time she had heard this poem. She had been there all those years ago when Bilbo had recited this to the elves. She smiled when she remembered how Lindir had given him such a hard time about it. There were more elves in Rivendell back then. Indeed, Claire had noticed that the fair valley lacked a bit of its previous charm and that realization made her sad. The elves were leaving Middle-earth. Soon Rivendell would be one of the last elvish settlements. After that Elladan and Elrohir would leave. A tear dropped from Claire's eye when she realized that this night in Rivendell might be one of the last great feasts she would witness.

A few days later, the bandage was taken off of Prisca's ankle and she was able to walk without the use of a crutch. The two friends began spending more time together after that. Claire also included Prisca in her plans for the trip. A party of armed elves would ride out of the valley with them to ensure that the creatures would not attack. Then they would take the same path through the Gap of Rohan that Claire and Elrain had taken years before. Isengard was a safer place than it had been during the war so hopefully they wouldn't encounter anything too dangerous. Then they would stop in Edoras and purchase a horse; Claire had her own money for travel needs this time. And after that it was straight on to Minas Tirith.

At last the morning of their departure came. It was the beginning of October and the chill of autumn hung heavily in the air. As they made ready to depart, the elves of Rivendell presented Prisca with a short sword made specially for her. The hobbit was also presented with a new coat made from Matthias's oversized waistcoat. She would have a lot of explaining to do if he ever needed that coat again. They also gave her a cloak and thus her adventurous look was complete.

Elrain came out to bid them farewell. She embraced Claire and said, "Pray for me as I seek the Abberator. I fear that it will be a long pursuit."

"I will," Claire said. "When it's all over I'm sure it will make an amazing tale."

Elrain chuckled regretfully. "Oh it will. I'm sure of that. Farewell."

As Claire and Prisca strode out of Rivendell with elves on horses at their sides, Claire took a moment to look back. She remembered the last time she did this, when she and Elrain had left and then fast-forwarded to the Grey Havens. Glancing at an upper balcony, she caught the familiar shape of the Owl observing their departure. That woman may have spoken rightly of her task, but she still gave Claire the creeps. What was she hiding under that mask? And what was her connection to Elrain? Pushing the thought aside, Claire hoped that she would never cross paths with the strange woman ever again. She seemed to only make things more complicated.

* * *

Shortly after Claire and Prisca left Rivendell, Elrain returned to the Library. She couldn't accept that the calling stone had been misplaced. Looking at the disorganized mess, she thought it wouldn't hurt to look again.

Sitting down at one of the desks, she now noticed Laemellon's long sharp hand writing on one of the loose pages. She had been so busy looking for the calling stone that she hadn't thought to actually read the papers she was sifting through.

After leafing through a few pages, the elf realized that Laemellon had been conducting research on the strange creatures seen outside of Rivendell. One page in particular caught her eye because it contained the words "calling stone." Her eyes drifted to the top and she began reading:

"Day 15: Upon venturing to the ford, I discovered a terrible thing. My attempt to communicate with the beasts ended in utter failure. As I drew near, I could hear their foul voices in my head and then I realized that they could hear my thoughts as well. But it was more than just hearing. They bored their way into my mind, viewing memories and gathering information that I did not want known. It was appalling. I came to understand that it was my calling stone fixed within my silver headpiece that was allowing them to do this at a distance. I removed the gem and stowed it on my person, but not touching my skin. It is paramount that calling stones must not be used until these creatures are utterly eradicated."

Elrain breathed for the first time since she had begun reading. She chuckled to herself. Thank goodness they hadn't found the stone! Indeed, now Elrain was confident that Laemellon either took it with her when she left or hid it. The Vanaloke knew Claire would look for it if she came back. How terribly dangerous it would have been for the young girl to have it with her on a journey across Middle-earth.


	12. The Student

**The Student**

It was the end of September when the elf company left Prisca and Claire. The hobbit and the young girl were now on their own with the wide open country before them. Coming out into a wide grassy landscape framed by the distant Misty Mountains, Prisca could hardly catch her breath.

"I have never been so excited in all my life," she said as she gazed at the mountain range. Her brown curly hair was billowing in the cool northern wind and her cloak billowed behind her majestically. She struck a pose and placed her hand upon her sword hilt.

"Adventure awaits us Claeo," the hobbit said dramatically. She drew her sword and pointed it eastward. "Forth! To destiny!"

Claire nearly fell over laughing. She had never known someone as dramatic as this hobbit and she was loving every minute of it. When she composed herself, she noticed Prisca looking down at her feet as she began to blush in embarrassment.

Claire drew her own blade, jumped atop a nearby rock, and pointed it dramatically to match the hobbit's stance.

"To destiny!" she declared. "And may the Force be with us!"

The two friends laughed at each other's silliness. Then they sheathed their swords and began running like kids just let out for recess. Down the path towards the Misty Mountains they went. Prisca and Claire were off on an adventure.

* * *

"So I guess we'll start with the basics," Claire said.

They had made good time on their first day. Now sitting across from each other, their small campfire between them, Claire was ready to begin the task of teaching Prisca all there was to know about being a Realm Jumper.

The hobbit sat cross-legged with her back straight and her attention fixed upon Claire.

"First is Realm Jumper abilities," Claire began. "My abilities are that I have indestructible fire hands and that I am fireproof."

For dramatic effect, Claire ignited a hand and reached into the campfire in front of her. She plucked out a coal and held it up for the astonished hobbit to observe.

"I can't be burned. I discovered that one a little late in my last journey when I actually walked _through_ fire." Claire tossed the coal casually back into the campfire. "Also my sword is magic or something of that nature. When I use it combined with my Realm Jumper abilities, it gives me extra stamina and agility and makes me a much better sword fighter. Elrain's ability is that she is really _really_ strong. Like, punch-a-demon-in the-face strong. Realm Jumpers get their abilities from exposure to the Wood Between the Worlds, a place that lies between realms. It's a place filled with magic that can only be accessed by rings."

Claire paused and looked curiously at Prisca. "Which brings me to something that even Elrain and I couldn't figure out. Have you ever been to the Wood Between the Worlds?"

Prisca chuckled. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am! I would remember visiting a place filled with magic."

The two girls sat in silence for a moment until the conundrum began to click with Prisca.

"Oh," she said. "You mean I need to go to the Wood Between the Worlds to _be_ a Realm Jumper?"

Claire nodded and said, "I know. It doesn't make sense. That's why I was so surprised when the Owl said you were my apprentice." She shrugged and let out a sigh. "But I suppose that if the Owl says it's so, then that makes it true. Anyway, moving on…"

Claire reached up and pulled the chain from around her neck. She held in out in front of Prisca so that she could see her Realm Jumper ring hanging from it.

"This is a Realm Jumper ring. This is what you use to travel between worlds."

"When will I get mine?"

Claire cringed. She knew this would come up. "Well...that's another mystery. I don't really know. But, Elrain told me that some Realm Jumpers get them during their first mission. So maybe you will get yours on this trip."

Prisca frowned. Claire could tell she was becoming frustrated. The whole situation was confusing. She had been told she was a Realm Jumper, but the more information Claire relayed to her, the more it was apparent that she didn't fit with the description. But trusting that it would all be resolved somehow, Claire moved on.

"The basic principle is you put your ring on when you want to leave a world. Then when you get to the Wood and come out of the world pool, you take it off and then put it on again to reset it. Then you jump in whatever pool you need to. Each pool in the Wood is a world. It's pretty simple. Though I did once hear a story of some children who had rings like this, but there was a green one to leave a world and a yellow one to enter the pools. That situation was a bit more complicated."

"So there are tales about Realm Jumpers in your world," Prisca asked.

"Yes and no. There are stories about people traveling to other worlds, but I wouldn't call them official Realm Jumpers."

"I'd love to hear those tales," Prisca said putting her chin in her hands. "If they are anything like the tale of the 'War Amongst the Stars' they must be epic."

Claire smiled. Prisca's fangirling over Star Wars was the most bizarrely amazing thing she had encountered in Middle-earth.

Compared to this part of their journey, traveling to Bree had been easy. Prisca found herself wishing at times that she could sleep in a real bed, but the excitement of the adventure kept her going. Claeo was a patient teacher who tried to answer any questions Prisca could come up with. The young hobbit couldn't have wished for a better traveling companion.

Over the following evenings, Claeo covered all subjects pertaining to Realm Jumpers including the Wood Between the Worlds, Realm Jumper rings, realm spells, time travel, technology cross-contamination, how Realm Jumpers can come back from death, and Realm Jumper abilities.

On one particular evening, when the subject of discussion was on the later item, Prisca asked what her Realm Jumper ability might be.

"I don't know," Claeo said as she stirred their campfire with a stick. "Elrain said they can be almost anything."

Prisca started at her own hands for a moment. "When will I get my ability?"

"Well, I got mine when I was almost killed by Morlyg," Claeo said. "In a moment of desperation I asked Eru to save me and then suddenly _poof_! I had fire hands."

"So all I have to do is ask?"

Claeo tilted her head to the side. "Well...I don't think it's that simple. You have to ask sincerely. I know for me, it wasn't until that particular moment that I realized just how much I needed Eru. I couldn't save myself."

"But why were you afraid to die if Realm Jumpers can come back from the dead?"

Claeo stared into the fire thoughtfully. "Well I suppose there is no guarantee that you will come back to whatever world you are in. Realm Jumpers have the ability, but it doesn't always happen. To be honest, I'm not 100% sure how that works. And besides, that wouldn't have been good for that situation. Remember...you have to wait 40 days before you can return. At least that's what Elrain told me."

There was a pause in the conversation. Claeo sat up straighter and said, "Let's change the subject, hu? This is depressing."

Prisca leaned back on her hands. "What else do we have to cover?"

"Not much else I suppose," the young human said. "Tomorrow I can start teaching you to sword fight."

"Oh good!" Prisca said rubbing her hands together. "I've been looking forward to that."

Claeo stood and stretched her back. While the human began to get ready for sleep, Prisca rummaged in her pack for her notebook. Over the past few nights she had begun to start working on her poem again. She supposed that since she was now a bonafide adventurer, she had the chops to write an epic poem.

"Taking notes," Claeo asked she pulled her cloak over her.

"No," the hobbit replied. "I - well I've started working on my poem again."

"That's awesome! What do you have so far?"

Prisca looked at Claeo sheepishly. "Well, I've copied a bit from that song you taught me. It just seemed to fit so well."

"That's fine," Claeo said with a crooked smile. "I won't tell anyone in my world that you plagarized them."

The hobbit smirked and began to read the first few lines she had written.

"Away. Away. Come away with me

Where tears have stained the shores of the sea.

Away. Away. And I will tell

The tales of mortals and elf kind."

"I like it," Claeo said. "It would be prettier if you sang it."

Prisca nodded and shut her book. "Maybe someday when it's finished."

And with that they both fell asleep.

* * *

The journey along the Misty Mountains was fairly uneventful. Indeed it was one of the most enjoyable trips Claire had taken in Middle-earth, second only to their journey back from Minas Tirith after the destruction of the Ring. Prisca was a good traveling companion. She had just the right amount of curiosity and confidence that made their personalities click.

Prisca had become a good friend and Claire dreaded the day that they would have to part ways. If only she could take this hobbit back to her own world with her. She was beginning to think that perhaps here in this frizzy haired fangirling hobbit, she had finally found that one person who might stick with her no matter what.

Each evening as they drew further south, Claire taught Prisca to sword fight much like Elrain had taught her. Though she hoped she was a bit easier on the hobbit than the elf had been on her. Yet much like Claire years ago, Prisca struggled tremendously. She was agile enough, but had no strength behind her small arms. She was also considerably shorter than Claire. Even before she had her abilities, Claire had been able to be somewhat graceful with a blade. The hobbit on the other hand wielded her short sword about as well as a fish plays the piano. Her hand eye coordination was sorely lacking and eventually they had to stop when Prisca kept losing her grip and throwing her blade haphazardly.

However, Claire encouraged the hobbit with her own tale. As the days passed, she began to tell the tale of her last journey in full and assured Prisca that Eru would work things out in the end. Prisca just needed to be as ready as she could be.

Yet even with this encouragement, Claire could tell that Prisca was becoming discouraged with each passing day. The once excited, pose-striking hobbit now began to ask fewer questions and seemed less interested in things concerning Realm Jumpers. Thus Claire focused on telling Prisca the rest of her tale from during the war. As she spoke of Laemellon, time travel, and her befriending of Peregrin, the young hobbit's spirits were lifted a little. It seemed that stories were the thing that inspired Prisca to keep going.

* * *

By the end of the second month they had reached the Gap of Rohan. At this point in their journey, Claire began to tell Prisca the tales of Narnia and of the "not official Realm Jumpers" and their adventures. On the last night before they crossed the Ford of Isen, Claire finished telling her hobbit friend the story of _The Magician's Nephew_. Prisca was especially amazed when Claire told her that Elrain was from Charn.

"But the White Witch destroyed Charn. How could Elrain be from there?" Prisca asked.

"Well, that happened a long time ago," Claire said. "Elrain has been a Realm Jumper for thousands of years so I suppose Digory and Polly traveled in time."

The two of them were lying on their backs in a grassy glade staring up at the stars, much like they had done when Claire had first told Prisca about Star Wars. This seemed to be the best position for storytelling. Looking up at the bright stars of Middle-earth seemed to make one's voice more resonant and powerful.

"Are there any more stories out of Narnia," Prisca asked.

"Yes, but they are long. We'll have to save them for another evening."

Prisca sat up on her elbow and said, "But the sun only went down an hour ago. Surely we have time for one more. Perhaps a shorter tale?"

Claire thought for a moment. A particular tale came to mind. An odd one to be telling Prisca, but Claire had a strong inkling that it was relevant.

"I can tell you the story of the curse that was placed upon my world."

Prisca shot a curious glance at Claire. In the dim light of the stars, Claire saw the confusion on her face. "Your world is cursed?"

"Yes, but it's a short tale."

Prisca lay back down in the grass contentedly and said, "Well then, that will do nicely."

Claire took a deep breath. She hoped that she would get this right. She had heard the story so many times that sometimes it sounded stale to her. She hoped that perhaps telling it in simple terms, it would sound fresh to the hobbit's ears.

"My world started in darkness. But then Eru...He's not called Eru in my world, but we'll call Him that for the sake of the story...Eru created light and separated it from the darkness. He made my world to be a paradise into which He placed the first man and the first woman. They lived in a garden and Eru Himself would come and talk to them face to face.

"In the center of the garden was a forbidden tree that Eru told the man and woman they should not take fruit from. He said that if they ate the fruit, they would die. The man and woman obeyed this law at first, but then one day a fallen vala named Lucifer entered the garden and told them that they didn't have to obey Eru. And thus they chose to eat the fruit."

"Did they die," Prisca asked.

"Well, yes and no. Not in the way you might think of death. You see the first man and woman were much like the elves, they were immortal. But when they ate the fruit, a curse was put upon them, their descendants, and the whole world. All things were now cursed to die. But they also died in their hearts. Their hearts were filled with darkness and this darkness separated them from Eru. They could no longer meet with Him face to face.

"But there was a way to break the curse. If someone without any darkness in their heart gave their life willingly, then the curse would reverse. Yet because of this, the people in my world were doomed. No one was without darkness _because_ of the curse. So no one could die to remove the darkness. There was no solution. Evil reigned and people turned their faces away from Eru. The strong and tyrannical were the most powerful. The fallen vala reveled in his victory.

"Yet what he did not know was that Eru had a plan from the beginning. When the set time had come, Eru Himself came down to our world as a human. Because he was not a descendant of the first man, He had no darkness in His heart. He spoke to the people and told them that the world was upside down. True power came through love, not hate. And true love came through selflessness. And so it was that Eru loved those he had made so much that He died in their place and thus the curse began to reverse. Eru Himself came back from death. He declared victory over the fallen vala and He gave power to those who would follow Him. Death was no longer a boundary. Though the world itself was still doomed to die, the hearts of men who sought after Eru no longer listened to the darkness, but instead were filled with the light of the One who made them. The people of my world who followed after Eru and acknowledged His sacrifice for them, had the curse upon their hearts removed. And thus they were no longer bound to a dying world, but became citizens of another world. A new world that was waiting for them in the future.

"Hmm," Prisca mused. "Sounds like the Realm Jumpers."

Claire had never considered that before. "How do you mean," she asked.

"Well, they don't belong to the world they are in. They are servants of Eru. And they have the power of Eru inside them. Isn't that just like the Realm Jumpers?"

"I suppose so," Claire said slowly.

"Why didn't Eru stop them?"

"Stop who?" Claire asked, confused by Prisca's sudden change of the subject.

"Why didn't Eru stop the man and woman from listening to the vala? Why didn't He stop the darkness from entering their hearts in the first place?"

Claire sighed and said, "It's a difficult question to answer. He is all powerful, yet bad things still happen. But I suppose if I were to attempt to answer the question, I would say that it is so that He can show He loves us by delivering us out of the darkness. Even in Middle-earth's own history, He used the dissonant song of Morgoth to be a part of the great song and used it for His glory. He takes the bad things that happen and makes them good. He doesn't forget about us."

Prisca was silent. At last the hobbit said, "Well that's a nice story."

"It's more than a story, Prisca," Claire said. "It's real. Real as Aslan and Narnia. Real as Middle-earth. Real as you and me."

The hobbit didn't respond. Claire wondered what was going on in that head of hers.

After a few moments, the hobbit got up and began to get ready for sleep. Claire was confused by her silent behavior, but figured she was just processing what she had told her. The tale of Claire's world could be a lot to take in.

* * *

It just didn't feel right to Prisca. If Eru was like Claeo said He was, then He must not be very just or kind. If the events of Prisca's life were any indication, Eru forgot about her a long time ago. She had been abandoned by her mother, doomed to be looked down upon by her own kind, and then just when she found a small glimmer of happiness in the Red Book, that was taken away.

In the past few days of their trip, doubt had begun to sink its sharp claws into Prisca's mind. And this night, after hearing the tale of Claeo's world, it was stronger than ever. After all that she had learned about Realm Jumpers over the past two months, she was beginning to doubt what the Owl had said. She had never been to the Wood Between the Worlds and she had no Realm Jumping Ring. How then could she be a Realm Jumper?

The slow realization of this had brought her enthusiasm down. Claeo insisted that "Eru had prepared a path for her" but Prisca couldn't see it. She felt like everyone made grand promises to her and then forgotten about them. She had been forgotten by her own mother. Why wouldn't she be forgotten by everyone else?

But Claeo remembered her; that fact alone kept Prisca from giving up entirely. She had such faith in Eru that Prisca couldn't help but hold onto a glimmer of hope. For now the hobbit pushed these troubling thoughts aside. In the morning things would be better. They were two thirds of the way to Gondor and once they got a horse in Edoras, she would be in Minas Tirith in no time. She was so close to her goal.

As she prepared for bed, Prisca rummaged in her pack for her notebook. Time to work on her poem for a bit. Her pack had become quite disorganized of late and she had difficulty locating her text amidst the food and spare clothes. At last she flipped the bag over and dumped the contents out in front of her.

When all of her belongings spilled out, her money pouch fell out as well. The tie around the top came loose and all of Uncle Matthias's coins were scattered on the forest floor. Prisca cursed under her breath as she began gathering the money up. She noticed something out of place amongst the coins and without a thought she picked it up. She blinked at the calling stone for a moment before remembering she wasn't supposed to touch it.

Prisca nearly dropped the small green gem and quickly shoved it into the leather pouch. The young hobbit looked around guiltily as if she had just broken a valuable object. Nothing happened. Perhaps whoever wasn't supposed to _hear her_ couldn't hear her if she wasn't holding the stone. When she had sat there awkwardly for a few more moments, she pushed the thought aside. If the Owl had been wrong about her being a Realm Jumper, then maybe she was wrong about this green stone too.

Prisca gathered up the rest of the gold coins and put the pouch back in her pack. She didn't get much written on her poem that night. She was preoccupied by Claeo's stories and her own doubts. Eventually she gave up and went to sleep.

* * *

In a deep cave at the southernmost tip of the Misty Mountains, something stirred. Hundreds of red eyes peered out of the dark opening and the skittering chatter of claws on stone echoed amidst the rocks.

They had heard her.


	13. The Fireside Rescue

**The Fireside Rescue**

They were just a day's journey from Edoras when Claire and Prisca made camp on December 1st. After traveling in the wild for over two months, they were both looking forward to a hot meal and a decent bed. That night they built a campfire in the forest at the foot of the mountains. The edge of the forest was about 30 feet north of them and beyond that lay the rolling plains of Rohan.

Claire asked Prisca if she fancied a story, but the young hobbit declined. Claire had noticed that Prisca's enthusiasm had waned gradually over the past week. The young girl chalked it up to the hobbit being tired. Two months of traveling in the wilderness can do that to a person.

As darkness fell, Prisca sat cross legged on the ground next to the fire. She leaned over her notebook as she worked on her ever growing poem. Seeing that the hobbit wasn't keen on socializing that night, Claire announced that she would take a stroll to the forest's edge. It wasn't far so she felt confident the hobbit would be alright on her own.

Reaching the forest's edge, Claire looked out on the moonlit plains. The tall grass swayed in the cool night wind and all seemed calm and peaceful. Claire found herself wishing that they could spend more time in Rohan. There was something refreshing about the big open sky above.

Peering across the plain, Claire thought she saw something move. She shifted her vision to _the sight_ to see what it might be. It was a person, definitely nothing supernatural. Yet as she started at it longer, the more she felt intrigued. What was one person doing out on the plain all by themselves in the middle of the night? Claire thought that perhaps it was a traveler like them just passing through, but that didn't feel right to her. She began to walk out onto the plain to get a better look. After walking about 50 feet, she still couldn't see the traveler clearly. Was he moving further away?

Suddenly she heard a cry for help and the sound of a scuffle in the forest behind her. The cry had come from Prisca; there was no doubt about that. Claire drew her sword and bolted back into the forest.

* * *

This poem was not turning out how Prisca wanted it to. She wished she could bring herself to rip pages out of her book, but she didn't dare. The hobbit tapped her pencil frustratedly on her chin. She had hit an inspirational wall. Prisca set her book down dejectedly and stared at the fire. Feeling sorry for herself was something that she had indulged in back in the Shire. It felt wrong to feel this way in the midst of an adventure.

She rubbed her eyes wearily and then reached for her book again.

A hand came from behind her and clasped over her mouth. Another arm wrapped around her, pinning her own arms against her sides. She couldn't see her attacker, just their hand in her peripheral vision. Yet when she focused on that clue, her blood ran cold. The hand was leathery and dark. Just when she was putting things together, another creature came out of the woods in front of her. They were the beasts that she and Claeo had encountered at the Ford. Fresh fear began to fill Prisca's chest. As it stepped into the firelight and crept slowly towards her, the second creature began to speak. Its voice came in a sharp hiss.

"This is the young mind," the creature said. It was squatting in front of her now, its long face turned to fix Prisca with one of its horrible red eyes. "Such potential. So easily drained."

Prisca began to struggle in the first creature's grip. It let out a growl that sounded more like a laugh. As she began to struggle more, the second creature in front of her reached out and put its hand around her throat. She could hardly breath as she saw a third one of the horrible things creeping into sight. It found her pack next to the campfire and began going through it as if it were looking for something. As it pulled out Prisca's money pouch, it dumped the contents on the ground. The creature began sifting through the coins with its gnarled claws.

"You brought this upon yourself," the creature in front of her said as it grinned. Its mouth was filled with razor sharp teeth. "Shouldn't have touched that stone."

Prisca began to panic as the creature holding her neck drew his face even closer and said, "Such a pity. A pretty face like your's being ruined." It let got of her neck, but then raised it's other hand. Long knife-like claws extended from his fingertips. Prisca gave a muffled scream.

Suddenly the creature in front of her flew backwards and up into the treetops ahead of them. She heard the beast crash through the canopy of a tree and land with a cringe worthy thud. The first creature who had grabbed her gave a muffled cry as it suddenly let her go. She spun around only to see the beast being dragged out of the light of the fire by an unseen foe. It disappeared into the darkness. She looked over at the third creature just in time to see its eyes grow wide in terror. It stopped rummaging in the coins and extended its claws, yet its intended victim was not Prisca. The hobbit was crawling backwards now. She looked on in amazement at what she saw. There was another creature there, but it was invisible. The hobbit only caught a glimpse of it when it got between her and the fire and its shadow fell on her. She saw that it was similar in shape to the others, but this beast had huge wings.

The third creature and the invisible one were locked in combat, their claws clashing together like swords. Prisca found herself backed against a tree, her hands thrown over her head. The fight was a whirlwind of claws and tails and they lept around the glade. One of the beasts slashed and struck the tree right above her head. Prisca had been in immense shock before, but now gathering her wits, she let out the loudest cry for help she could muster. The third beast jerked suddenly. It clutched at its chest and fell to the ground dead. And almost as quickly as it had started, the fight was over. The only sound was the still crackling campfire.

Prisca slowly lowered her arms. Suddenly, the winged creature was revealed before her. Backlit by the fire, it looked just as dark and treacherous as the other beasts. It glanced at the pile of coins. Prisca followed its gaze and in the flickering light of the fire. The calling stone could be seen clearly, uncovered by the scuffle.

The creature in front of Prisca bent down and wrapped the stone in a small cloth. Holding it up to the hobbit's face it said, "What are you doing with this?" Its voice was deep and commanding yet had a feminine tone.

"I - I was given it."

"You lie!" the creature boomed. "It doesn't belong to you, thief!"

Being called a thief for the second time on this adventure made Prisca's blood boil. She dared to look the creature directly in the eye. Its gaze was hard and judgemental.

"I am not!" Prisca said. "I was given it in Rivendell."

"Was it Elrain that gave it to you?"

"No. It was -"

The winged creature shot out a hand and gripped Prisca by the neck. The hobbit found herself slammed against the tree behind her. "Then you stole it," the creature said. "It doesn't belong to you, halfling."

Prisca wasn't being choked, but the anger that was rising in her chest made her words come out in gasps.

"I'm...not...a thief," she breathed.

The hobbit and the creature glared at each other until suddenly another person burst into the glade. They both turned to see Claeo come running through the trees, her hands and sword ablaze with blue fire. Prisca thought that she would quickly dispatch the thing that had her by the neck, but to the hobbit's surprise, the human just stood there. What was she waiting for?

* * *

Claire could hardly believe her eyes.

"Laemellon?"

The vanaloke, who had been crouching in front of the halfling, stood up straight, yet Prisca's neck was still in her hand. The hobbit was standing on her tiptoes, her face filled with confused frustration. She gripped at the vanaloke's wrists, futilely trying to free herself. Laemellon's large purple eyes were wide in astonishment.

"Claeo?" she said. "By all the Valar...you came back."

"I did," Claire said. "And it's amazing to see you but...could you let my friend go, please?"

Laemellon looked down at the hobbit she had detained. "This halfling? But she is a thief. She stole your calling stone."

Claire's expression changed. "She what?"

"I'm not a thief," Prisca croaked. "The Owl gave it to me. Now let me go!"

The vanaloke released her and Prisca backed away rubbing her neck. She turned to Claire and said, "I - I didn't steal it. The Owl gave it to me and said when I met the one who had its counterpart...then I could give it to you."

"The Owl?" Laemellon said flabbergasted. "Who does she think she is to give you that calling stone?"

"Are you ok?" Claire said addressing Prisca. "Where is the calling stone now?"

The hobbit looked up at Laemellon disdainfully. "She has it. I was keeping it in my money pouch and those beasts poured it out trying to find it."

"Beasts?"

"Yes," Laemellon said. She gestured toward one of the fallen creatures. Claire hadn't even noticed the dead body when she had come into the scene. "They attacked your hobbit friend here. I saved her from them."

Prisca coughed indignantly and continued to rub her neck. Claire stood and walked over to the fallen creature.

"Do you know what they are," the young girl asked.

"I'm afraid I do," Laemellon said solemnly. "They are what is left of those of my people who left the island. Those who disobeyed Eru's command. I have been tracking them and trying to find out where they have been in Middle-earth all this time. They only just appeared about a year ago."

"We were attacked by them at the Ford of Bruinen," Claire said. "I wondered if that was what they were. I almost mistook one of them for you. It was really far away."

Laemellon chuckled. "I should hope so."

Laemellon's laugh brought back good memories to Claire. She had forgotten how much she missed her vanaloke friend. "It's good to see you again," the young girl said.

Laemellon smiled. "It's good to see you as well my dear friend." The two friends embraced. When they came apart, Claire looked down at Prisca. The hobbit was staring up at them, her mouth open and her brow furrowed in utter outrage.

"She...she's your friend?"

"Yes," Claire said. "This is Laemellon, my companion on my last journey. Remember? She was my dragonish friend I told you about."

Prisca looked up at Laemellon doubtfully. Claire had of course told her about Laemellon when she had told her the story of her last journey to Middle-earth. The hobbit had marveled at her description, but now being apprehended by the neck had perhaps tainted her impression of the vanaloke.

"Laemellon, this is Prisca Baggins. She's a friend and my apprentice."

The vanaloke nodded respectfully at Prisca. "I apologized for taking you for a thief, but you put yourself in grave danger by possessing that stone."

Prisca nodded in turn, but didn't say anything.

"Why is that," Claire asked.

Laemellon's mouth curled in disgust. "Those beasts, or as I have named them 'the Morloki', can communicate through thought much like my people. The calling stones amplify the connection to a disastrous degree. They can read thoughts in a very violating manner. Your friend here must have touched the calling stone. That is how they found you."

Claire glanced at Prisca and then back at Laemellon. "Are we still in danger of attack?"

The vanaloke shook her long head. "I do not think so. There were only three of them here tonight and I killed them all. But we should at least be on our guard. I will keep the stone for safe keeping. While the Morloki are around, using them is very dangerous."

Laemellon looked doubtfully at Prisca and the hobbit returned her glare. Claire could feel the negative energy between them. They definitely hadn't gotten off on the right foot. She could already tell that this was going to make things complicated.

* * *

Hours later Prisca had long since gone to sleep. After recovering from the attack, she was exhausted and promptly wrapped herself in her cloak and called it a night. With Claire and Laemellon it was a different story. There would be no sleep for them until they had caught up on lost time.

"As I said, it was about a year ago that the Morloki first appeared," Laemellon said as she took a swig of water from a canteen. "Their first attack involved a company of elves traveling from Lothlorien to Rivendell. Their camp was attacked at night and in the midst of the confusion one of the elves was gravely injured. They say that one of the morloki had gripped his head with its claws. Sunk its nails right into his skull. It didn't go through bone or leave any lasting physical damage, but when the elves slew the morloke and tried to help their friend up, he was in a bizarre state."

"What happened to him," Claire asked.

"He was blind for a time, but that soon wore off. He was very weak. It was as if the life had been drawn out of him by the morloke's grip. Once the elf had recovered, he said that he felt the beast rummaging around in his mind. I also felt that sensation when I got too close to the creatures while wearing a calling stone. My theory is that the morloki can drain someone of their energy and at the same time invade their thoughts. It all happens through contact with their claws. I suppose it's a perversion of the vanaloki's ability to tell if people are lying when they touch them."

"But the elf fully recovered, right?"

"Oh yes, he did," Laemellon said casually. "Though it took a few hours to fully come back to normal. Since that first attack, I have been studying the creatures. I've tried to talk to them, but when they see me, they only spout curses and obscenities."

Laemellon stared into the fire thoughtfully. "A few months ago, I heard word that a nest had been discovered. A cave of sorts where they had been seen. That's why I left Rivendell in such a hurry. But it only proved to be a dead end. I've been trying to find where they are coming from or where they had been hiding since the elder days, but they appear so sporadically. All my efforts have been futile."

The vanaloke looked up at Claire and said, "I left the calling stone in Rivendell for you, but I can't imagine how the Owl could have gotten her hands on it."

"So you met the Owl?"

"Indeed I did," Laemellon chuckled regretfully. "She was actually in Rivendell before you and Elrain left. She concealed her face with a veil at first and then they made her that mask. I haven't the faintest idea what she is hiding. I don't like her and neither does Elrain."

This caught Claire's ear. She leaned in curiously. "Really? I got the impression that Elrain was nervous around her, but I never thought she disliked her."

"Oh she despises her. I think it's because the Owl is so cryptic."

Claire laughed. "So the cryptic secretive person doesn't like other the cryptic secretive person. Figures."

"So I take it you spoke to the Owl," the vanaloke asked.

"Oh yes," Claire said. "She was the one who told me that I was supposed to train Prisca. I'm also supposed to go to Minas Tirith and 'answer the one who calls to me' whatever that means. She also told Prisca she was a Realm Jumper. That has been hard to swallow."

"Why is that?"

Claire rubbed her temples woefully. "Well for starters she's never been to the Wood Between the Worlds which is a requirement."

There was a pause. Claire glanced over at Laemellon who had a very bemused expression on her reptilian face. "Huh," the vanaloke said. "I suppose that would be an issue."

"And she doesn't have a ring. That's not a requirement, but it's kind of needed to, you know...jump between realms."

The vanaloke nodded thoughtfully. "And how is she taking all of this?"

"She's was optimistic at first, but her enthusiasm has gone down since we first started. She was probably more excited than I was when I first came here. She wants to see Middle-earth just like I did."

Claire glanced over at the snoring hobbit a few feet away. "She's a good kid Laemellon. Sometimes she reminds me of myself and sometimes I have no idea why she does what she does. But she's become a good friend. I'm sad that I'll have to leave her on her own someday."

"Well surely she will gain companions along the way as you did."

"Yeah," Claire said. "Maybe you can keep an eye on her for me."

"Mmmm, I doubt it," Laemellon said. "I can already tell she doesn't like me. And don't take this the wrong way, but the feeling is mutual."

Claire smiled. "I'm sure you'll warm up to each other eventually. After Edoras, it's only a few days ride to Minas Tirith and then the trip will be over."

"For you perhaps," Laemellon said softly. "But for me, my journey won't be over until I've solved the problem of the Morloki. They seem to grow in number everyday. Perhaps when you are done with whatever it is you need to do in Minas Tirith, you can help me deal with them?"

"It would be my pleasure," Claire said. "Anything for an old friend."


	14. The Exchange at Edoras

**The Exchange at Edoras**

The next day, the three travelers started bright and early so that they would reach Edoras by sunset. Prisca walked alongside her human friend as the vanaloke circled above scouting out the path ahead.

She had been quiet since the events of the last night, yet now that Prisca was alone with Claeo again, she felt comfortable enough to speak her opinion.

Glancing up at the green reptile soaring overhead, Prisca muttered, "I don't like her very much." It was an immature thing to say, but the hobbit was tired and grumpy.

"Laemellon's not that bad once you get to know her," Claeo said cheerfully. They were out on the grassy plain now. There was no need to stay under the cover of the woods in the daytime. Claeo took a deep breath and sighed. She seemed to enjoy being out in the open.

"She reminds me too much of those creatures," Prisca said. "I thought she was going to kill me last night. A thief indeed. If one more person calls me that…"

"It was an easy thing to assume. You _did_ have the calling stone without her permission. I wonder how the Owl found it. Why did she give it to you?"

Prisca huffed. "I don't know. She never explained. Whatever reason it was, I certainly failed. I wasn't supposed to touch it and as usual, I mucked it up."

"Everyone makes mistakes," Claeo said softly. "I mean heck, I got Frodo killed in an alternate timeline. You shouldn't be too hard on yourself."

Prisca nodded. She appreciated Claeo trying to encourage her. The human at her side had such a hopeful outlook on the situation. Even in the midst of failure, she pushed forward. Prisca wondered where someone got such a strong sense of hope.

* * *

A few hours before sundown, they were at last in sight of Edoras. Far away, the Golden hall shone in the orange glow of evening. Claire was grinning stupidly. She was beginning to relapse into the intense fangirling she had experienced on her last trip. Edoras was a sight! It was set atop a hill and framed by rolling plains and snow capped mountains.

Looking down at her hobbit companion, she noticed that Prisca was also staring in wide-eyed awe, but it was not the same as when they had left Rivendell. Something was bothering her hobbit friend, that much was certain. Once they were finally indoors and had food and a seat by a warm fire, she decided she would try to find out what was bothering Prisca.

They came to a stop about a half a mile from Edoras. Laemellon descended and gave a report.

"I see no sign of the Morloki. There is however a storm in the southeast. A bit odd for this time of year."

"Right, good," Claire said rubbing her hands together. "Prisca and I will enter Edoras and find somewhere to spend the night. You are welcome to join us Laemellon, but you may want to remain cloaked. The people here are most likely not accustomed to the sight of a vanaloke."

Prisca huffed and smirked up at Laemellon. The vanaloke gave her a cold look. "Do you have something to say Prisca," Laemellon asked.

The hobbit shrugged. "I just find it funny that someone as illustrious as yourself has to stay hidden out in the cold like a wild animal. I thought you were supposed to be some great hero of the Siege of Minas Tirith."

Claire thought she heard Laemellon growl.

"I did fight in the Siege," the vanaloke said. "At least I can hold my own in a fight and not cower like a child."

Prisca started to fire off a comeback but Claire stepped between them.

"Ladies," she said putting up her hands. "Come on! Don't be like this. Look, I know you both got off on the wrong foot, but last night is behind us ok?"

"I think I _shall_ stay out here 'in the cold with the wild animals'," Laemellon said as she leaned down to look Prisca square in the eye. "They would be much better company that some people I could name."

Laemellon straightened and turned to Claire. "I'll meet you outside of the City in the morning." And with that word, the vanaloke flew into the air and out of sight.

Prisca seemed quite pleased with herself and began walking towards Edoras. Claire on the other hand was beginning to get annoyed at her attitude.

"Hey," the human said walking up beside her. "What's your damage?"

"My what," the hobbit asked.

Claire stepped in front of her and the hobbit came to halt. "Your attitude. I know that you and Laemellon got off to a bad start, but that's no reason to insult her."

"I'm sorry," Prisca said half heartedly. "I just don't feel comfortable around her that's all."

"Look Prisca, I'm not your mom, but tomorrow morning when we meet Laemellon, you _will_ show her respect. Understand?"

The hobbit nodded. Claire was amazed that someone she had thought was like a sister to her could be such a jerk. She thought back to Anna's comment about siblings. She was beginning to understand it now.

At last Prisca and Claire approached the wide windswept gate of Edoras. Claire informed the gatekeepers that they were travelers on their way to Minas Tirith and needed lodging for the night. When they were allowed to enter, one of the gate wardens noted that Prisca was a hobbit. He subsequently ran off. Claire thought this was odd and hoped that they wouldn't run into any trouble in the city.

As they made their way up the broad stone paved path, Claire began to ask some of the town's folk where a guest house might be found. One woman pointed them in the right direction and commented on how nice it was to have another of the holbytla in their midst. The meaning of her words didn't occur to Claire until they saw someone coming to meet them.

Down the street walked a well dressed individual with a sword hanging from his belt. Yet he was considerably shorter than the rest of the people they had seen in Edoras.

"Well I'll be," the person said. "If it isn't Claeo."

Meriadoc Brandybuck ran forward and took Claire's hand. Shaking it he said, "What a delight to see you again Claeo! I had no idea you were here. I was told that there was another hobbit in our midst and I came at once."

Claire was beside herself. What was Merry doing here in Rohan? She knew that he retained his connection to this particular kingdom since he was esquire to the King, but it was a strange coincidence that he should be in Edoras now.

"It's good to see you too Merry," she said cheerfully. "But the report was correct. I have brought a friend with me."

She turned and Prisca stepped into view. Merry's expression changed from wonder to shock.

"Prisca!" he exclaimed. "By the Shire, what are you doing here? Do your parents know about this?"

"Um no, but I have a good reason," Prisca said sheepishly. "It will take a long time to explain."

Merry gazed at her for a moment. At last he embraced the young hobbit girl, but his voice was still filled with concern. "It is good to see you, but I look forward to your explanation." Pulling away from her, he said, "I shall have supper prepared for both of you. And I will see about arranging guest lodging in the Golden Hall. Come."

Merry led them up through the city and into the Golden Hall. He introduced them to King Eomer who welcomed them to Edoras. Claire hadn't had a chance to meet Eomer on her last trip. She had seen him at a distance, but now meeting him face to face, she was quite impressed at this warrior turned king.

Soon Claire and Prisca found themselves around a large table. Attendants brought food and drink and Claire and Prisca had one of the most enjoyable meals they had eaten in a long time. The hot beverages and fresh meats were a welcome change to what they had on the forest road.

"So Prisca," Merry said after they had sufficiently stuffed their faces. "How did you come to be traveling with Claeo?"

Prisca bit into the chicken leg in her hand and mumbled, "I ran away from home." After chewing and swallowing, she added, "I ventured into the Old Forest and ran into Claeo. She agreed to let me go to Rivendel with her. I was told I could go with her to Minas Tirith, so I decided to tag along."

"You did what?" Merry asked in amazement. "Why would you do that Prisca?"

"Personal reasons," the hobbit said. She took another huge bite out of the chicken leg.

"Do your parents know where you are," Merry asked further. "You say you've been in Rivendell. Have you written to them?"

Prisca gazed at her plate and didn't answer.

Merry leaned back in his chair wearily. "Oh Prisca they must be worried sick. I should send you back home at once."

Prisca still didn't say anything. Claire's eyes flitted back and forth trying to read their emotions. Merry was perturbed but not angry. Prisca on the other hand looked properly miffed.

"Peregrin told me all about your last exchange, Prisca," Merry said at last. "How you were so insistent that he take you with him to Minas Tirith. He was here only a few days ago. You just missed him."

Claire nearly choked on her drink. "What Pippin was here?" she sputtered.

"Yes," Merry said. "He received a summons from King Aragorn a few months ago and asked if I would come with him. I hadn't returned to Rohan since the war so I agreed to visit here while he went on alone. He told me he would send word to me and let me know how long he could expect to remain there. We only arrived a few days ago. You must have been just behind us."

Claire turned to Prisca. The hobbit was avoiding her gaze.

"Why didn't you tell me Pippin was…" Then she realized the truth. Perhaps Prisca had been looking for her Mother that night in the wood, but at this account from Merry, another motive was clearly evident.

"Prisca, were you following Peregrin to Minas Tirith?"

"Maybe," the hobbit said softly. "Well, yes. That was my plan."

"So you didn't really want to go to Rivendell. You wanted someone to travel with while you caught up to him."

Claire could see by the hobbit's face that she had been found out. The young human wasn't mad, but she felt a little bit used. Prisca hadn't been completely honest with her and that bothered Claire.

Prisca stared down at her plate and wiped her hands on her lap. Merry was looking at her with the same expression Claire was. Apparently they both were interested in some truth from the hobbit girl.

Prisca cleared her throat and said, "That was true at the time, but when we got to Rivendell and all the stuff with the Owl happened, that changed. I gave up on catching up to Pippin a long while back. But…but my goal has always been to go to Minas Tirith." She looked up at Claire and chuckled nervously. "Quite a coincidence isn't it?"

Claire wasn't amused.

Merry wasn't either. "Alright," he said. "You will not be going to Minas Tirith. You will stay in Rohan until Peregrin returns. Then you can answer to him for running away. How long have you been away from home now? Four, five months? And for what? A trip to see the places you've read about. It's very selfish of you Prisca."

Prisca stood abruptly. "You may be my cousin Merry," she said sharply. "But you have no right to tell me what to do."

The hobbit girl set her napkin on the table. "Please excuse me. I'm not hungry anymore." With that, she strode off and out of the dining room.

Claire was left alone with Merry. She put her elbows on the table and rested her face in her hands.

"I can imagine she's been a handful," the hobbit remarked.

"I suppose you would know," Claire said. "I forgot that you and Peregrin were first cousins which in turn makes you her cousin doesn't it?"

Merry nodded. "She was always closer to Pippin. He was like a brother to her at times. I'm not surprised she would want to go with him, but running away seems out of character for her."

"She said she was looking for her mother," Claire said.

"Her mother? You mean Estella?"

"No her birth mother. She said that her uncle told her that he found her in the Old Forest and that her birth mother might still be out there."

Merry looked at Claire gravely. "That's not the story I heard. Prisca's birth mother has a earned a bad name in the Shire. Rumors run rampant in that place. I'm afraid she has received a lot of grief because of it."

"Something is bothering her Merry, but I don't know what it is. I suppose I just need to sit down with her and find out."

"Well, you won't have to put up with her much longer," Merry said. "She will stay here with me until Pip and I return to the Shire."

Claire bit her lip. "I respect your authority as her cousin, but I would actually argue that she needs to come with me."

Merry's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really? Why?"

"It's hard to say," Claire said. "But she is a part of my mission somehow. Plus she's come all this way. I would be crushed if I was this close to Minas Tirith and didn't get to see it. If you will allow me, I can make sure she reaches the city safely. I'll leave her with Peregrin and he can take her home."

Merry nodded thoughfully. "I suppose if she has come this far." He smiled and rose from his chair. "I'll arrange a horse for you. It will be waiting for you in the stables tomorrow morning."

Claire stood and walked over to the hobbit. Shaking his hand, Claire said, "Thank you Merry. It was wonderful to see you again. Best of luck to you."

"And to you Claeo," the hobbit said. "Give my regards to Pippin when you meet him in Minas Tirith."

"I will," Claire said. "You can count on it."

* * *

When Claire returned to their room, she found Prisca already asleep. Their room was very similar to the one in Bree with two beds on either side. Prisca was wrapped tightly in her blanket with her back to Claire. Claire wondered if she was faking sleep to avoid talking about what had just happened, but she decided it was best for them to turn in early anyway.

The next morning, Claire woke to find Prisca already in the dining room having breakfast with Merry. The hobbit girl seemed very troubled despite the fact that Merry had told her that she would be allowed to continue her journey to Minas Tirith.

After bidding farewell to Merry, the two walked down to the stables. As they waited for the horse to be brought out to them, Claire too the opportunity to have a heart to heart with her hobbit companion.

"Prisca, are you ok? You haven't been yourself for a while. And last night with Merry...I'm sorry if we came on too strong. I know you had a harrowing experience the night before."

"It's not that," Prisca muttered. "I just...I'm ready to get to Minas Tirith and get this over with."

Claire chuckled. "I remember thinking the same thing when I was in your place. Right before I was supposed to start my first mission."

"You were never in my place," the hobbit said softly.

Claire looked down at her in surprise. "What do you mean? I was once a Realm Jumper like you, just starting out."

"Well I'm not a Realm Jumper," Prisca said sharply.

"What do you mean you're not a Realm Jumper? Of course you are."

"No I'm not, Claeo." Prisca looked up at the young girl, anger burning in her eyes. "Will you please stop being so positive about this whole thing! I've never been to the Wood Between the Worlds and I don't have a ring."

Claire was taken aback. "Prisca," she said calmly. "The Owl said…"

"The Owl is wrong! I'm not like you."

"I know it seems impossible, but Eru is with -"

"No He's not!" Prisca shouted. One of the horses in the stable stirred at her raised voice. "If He's so powerful and good like you say, then He must hate me because He forgot about me a long time ago. If He cared so much, why did he let my mother abandon me?"

Tears welled up in the hobbit's eyes as she said, "I'm just a hobbit. I'm not an adventurer. I tried to be one, but I'm not. I can't even write a stupid poem!"

The two females stood in silence for a moment. Claire was speechless. At last Prisca caught her breath and said. "I'm sorry, but I can't be what you want me to be. I just want to get to Minas Tirith. Then you can leave me with Peregrin and do whatever it is you need to do there. I'm sorry I used you. I just…" She looked down at her bare hobbit feet shamefully. "I want to go home."

Prisca loosed her sword belt and handed the sheathed blade to Claire. "I'm no good with this anyway. There's no point in me carrying it any longer."

Claire took the blade from Prisca. Her voice was low as she said, "If you want to go home, you could just stay in Rohan. I asked for Merry to let you go with me because I believed you had a bigger purpose ahead of you."

"I want to go to Minas Tirith," Prisca said in a small voice. Claire had seen the hobbit girl act childish before, yet now more than ever, Prisca looked like the winy 13-year old that she acted like. Despite the fact that she was being very selfish, tears welled up in Claire's eyes at hearing the hobbit's despairing conclusion to her situation. She wanted to say words of encouragement, but her own anger was too high at the moment. She needed to process this.

"Ok," she said softly. And that was that.

An attendant arrived with their horse. It was saddled and laden with supplies. Claire mounted the horse and after her came Prisca with the help of a high step stool. With the hobbit riding in the saddle behind her, Claire led the horse out of the stable and onto the main street. They rode through the gate in silence and thus the hobbit and the young girl left Edoras for good.


	15. The Fate of Peregrin Took

**The Fate of Peregrin Took**

The City of Minas Tirith sat cold and colorless beneath an overcast sky as the three travelers approached the city. Claire thought she smelled coming rain and drew her cloak tighter around her face. The trip from Edoras had been torturous. Though she and Prisca rode on the same horse, they hadn't spoken since the hobbit had confessed her doubts. Claire was used to hours alone thinking, so she had taken the time to process the situation. But that didn't make their circumstances any more palatable.

"I suppose you should have expected this," she had said to herself. "This is always how your friendships turn out. Down in flames. You knew it was too good to be true from the beginning. Prisca has her own agenda just like everyone else."

The winter weather had eased a bit as they went south, but Claire still felt chilled to the bone. She too wanted this to be done and over with. Even Laemellon was eager to drop Prisca off with Peregrin and move on to more relevant matters.

After skirting the edge of the city, the three travelers reached the main gate. Claire was surprised to find it shut tight.

"That's odd," she said. "They usually only close the gate during the evenings. It should be open."

As they stood before the massive wooden doors, Claire noted how eerily silent it was. Usually one could hear that bustling "city" noise rising from behind the walls. The sounds of people talking and walking to various business; soldiers marching, horses stamping, and flags flapping in the wind. But now there was nothing. The air was still and humid with the coming rain. Something wasn't right.

"Gatekeeper!" Claire called. There was no answer. Claire dismounted and stood beside Laemellon as the two of them stared up at the guard room above the gate.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Laemellon muttered. "There should be someone manning the gate."

"There should be multiple people manning the gate," Claire said. "Have you noticed how quiet it is? Something is fishy here."

"What is that," Prisca asked. The human and the vanaloke turned to look in the direction she was pointing. Along the southern side of the city they could see a creature coming towards them. It had a large birdlike head and tattered wings. It ran on all fours like a big cat, but its front feet were like the taloned claws of a bird of prey. Laemellon pulled a face, utterly disturbed by the seemingly mish-mashed beast. Claire recognized what it was immediately.

"It - it's a gryphon!" she said incredulously.

The creature was racing towards them now and it was very clear that it didn't mean them well. Claire drew her sword. Laemellon extended her claws and stood by her side. Prisca still sat atop the horse as she watched the altercation, her eyes wide with wonder and fear.

Claire ignited her hands and sword and yelled, "Stay back!"

But the beast didn't heed her warning. Laemellon stepped forward and as the gryphon snapped its huge beak at her, she spun to the side and drove her long claws into the creature's skull. The gryphon stumbled to the ground, its legs twitching. When it had twitched its last, Claire examined it more closely.

"It _is_ a gryphon," she said.

"A what," the vanaloke asked.

"It's a mythological creature. I've read about them in my world. They have the head, wings, and front feet of an eagle and the back portion of a lion."

"It's hideous," Lamellion remarked, kicking the carcass with her clawed foot. "It looks rather sickly. Look at its wings. They look like they've been plucked."

Just then there came a terrible screeching sound from the north. Claire spun around to see another gryphon charging them. This time it came from the opposite direction and the human and vanaloke looked on in horror as the beast leapt at their horse. The horse panicked and reared back. Prisca fell from the saddle and thumped on the ground with a cry. The gryphon stood on its hind legs and sank its claws into the side of the poor animal. The horse went down quickly while Prisca crawled away.

Claire rushed forward. The gryphon was so preoccupied with its new kill that it didn't see her flaming sword until it was too late. The beast's head flew from its body and landed with a thud at Claire's feet.

But then something utterly bizarre happened.

The gryphon's body began to disintegrate. Within seconds it had wasted away into a dark grey substance that stirred in the wind. Leaning down to examine it, Claire realized what it was.

"Ash?" she said, daring to touch the grey powder with a finger. "What the -"

"Claeo! There's more of them," Laemellon shouted.

Claire and Prisca looked to see where Laemellon was pointing. Two more gryphons were approaching from the north.

"Ok Laemellon, get Prisca over the wall," Claire ordered. "They don't seem to be able to fly. Then come back and get me. We should be safe inside the city."

Prisca looked up at Claire, her mouth open. "And how do you think she will…" But before the hobbit could finish her question, the vanaloke hooked her hands under Prisca's shoulders and they both lept into the air. The hobbit protested loudly as she was suddenly pulled from the earth. They disappeared over the wall and moments later the vanaloke descended and did the same with Claire. Laemellon strained to carry her, but landed better than she had during their last trip.

All three of them now stood on the other side of the wall. Claire started to speak but was cut off by another screeching sound. But this time it had come from _inside_ the city. As they watched, multiple gryphons started emerging from behind buildings and passageways on all sides of the courtyard. Outside the gate there had been only been a few of them. Now inside, there were at least 50 if not more.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Claire said weakly. "Where are these things coming from?"

Neither of her companions had an answer as the beasts drew nearer. They were creeping along the ground slowly like tigers ready to spring. In the brief moments before all hell broke loose, Claire said, "Laemellon, do you remember where Losswen lives?"

"Yes," the vanaloke said, trying her best to stay calm.

"Get Prisca to Losswen's house."

"But what about you?" the hobbit squeaked.

"I'll be fine," Claire said. "Now go!"

Laemellon got down on all fours, turned to the hobbit, and said, "Get on my back."

Prisca gawked at her. "You want me to do what?"

"There's no time to argue!" the vanaloke growled. "I can't carry you all the way there by your shoulders. Get on my back!"

One of the gryphons jumped at the travelers. Claire swung low and took the beast's head off in one swift motion. Its head and body blew away with the wind before they hit the ground.

Prisca climbed onto Laemellon's back and wrapped her arms around the vanaloke's neck. Laemellon took off at an awkward gallop, spread her wings, and soon rose off the ground. Claire could hear Prisca screaming in fright as they soared high into the air.

So now it was just Claire and the gryphons. She had been in worse situations before and had been more frightened, but for some reason seeing what her flaming sword did to these beasts gave her a strange confidence. Gripping her sword tighter, she felt herself ready to spring.

"Come on then!" she yelled. "Who's next?"

But the beasts didn't attack. They seemed afraid of her now after seeing what she had done to the first attacker. At last Claire took the initiative. She sprang at one of them and the beast backed away. Chasing after it, she caught it by the legs and removed its taloned claws. It seemed that just injuring the beast with her sword didn't make it go up in grey dust. The creature writhed it pain and Claire soon put it out of its misery. The gryphon blew away with the wind as its companions fled away in terror from the flame wielding girl.

What on earth were these things that they wasted away like this? Some dark sorcery was afoot in Minas Tirith, that was certain. Claire shifted her eyes to _the sight_ and saw to her amazement that the beasts were non-existent. They were neither a shadow like mortal creatures, nor shining like supernatural beings. They were like stone, grey and lifeless. Could they have been conjured by some spell?

Claire began to run up into the City. She prayed that Laemellon had been able to get Prisca to Losswen's safely. It would take some time to get there on foot, but with her flaming sword held in front of her, she felt confident she could make it.

 _Claeo. Help._

Claire skidded to a stop and spun around.

"Peregrin?"

She had heard him. His voice had been faint yet unmistakable. Claire had a strange sensation in her head. A sort of buzzing that she couldn't shake. She began to run further up the street. Using _the sight_ she looked around. She stopped when she thought she saw something. There was a light ahead that stood out in the shadowy realm before her eyes. Was it a person?

Claire had seen how Realm Jumpers appeared through _the sight_. She had seen Elrain plenty of times and had once caught a glimpse of herself through Laemellon's eyes. The being that she saw ahead of her was very similar. Was it another Realm Jumper?

Claire began to run up through the city. The voice of Peregrin echoed in her mind driving her on. The bright person ahead of her drew ever closer. It was then that she realized something. She could see this person through stone. That had never happened before. What on earth was going on in this city?

At last she came onto a street that she knew was a dead end just around the corner. Out of her field of vision she could hear the sound of taloned claws scraping the pavement. Crouching low to the ground, she crept along a nearby wall.

She paused and very slowly peered around the corner. She nearly screamed in terror as she found herself eye to eye with a gryphon. She ducked around the corner, her back pressed on the stone wall as she tried to catch her breath as quietly as possible. Claire expected the beast to react, but nothing happened. Carefully, she peered around the corner again. The beast was still there, sniffing the ground and moving its head from side to side, but now she noticed why it hadn't seen her. One of the gryphon's eyes, the one facing her, had been badly burned. Indeed, the whole side of its face was black and charred.

Yet the gryphon was not what she focused on for long. The shining figure was laying on the ground just behind the beast. As Claire realized who it was, she put a hand over her mouth in horror.

No more than 15 feet away lay Peregrin. He was lying on his back, his face turned towards her, a pool of blood beneath him. Claire willed _the sight_ to cease and now observed that he was unconscious and deathly pale.

It looked like Peregrin was dead and Claire was filled with an unbearable horror at the thought. She composed herself and gripped tightly to the hilt of her sword. The gryphon with the burned eye was looking at Pippin with its good eye. It was circling him, getting ready to move in and perhaps finish him off. Claire wondered why it was hesitating.

She began to step forward to slay the creature, but suddenly the Voice of Eru sounded in her head.

 _Wait._

Claire stopped. Wait? Why would she..?

 _Look up._

Claire glanced up. Above her, crouching on the roof of a building, was a morloke. She held her breath in fear. What was one of those things doing in Minas Tirith? What the actual heck was going on in this City?

The morloke was watching the gryphon circle Peregrin. Its keen red eyes were studying the altercation unwaveringly. It looked like it was waiting for something.

Glancing back at her hobbit friend, Claire saw that the gryphon had stopped circling. It was placing a clawed foot on top of the limp hobbit and gripping him tight. She had seen enough nature shows to tell when a predator was about to chomp into its victim. Her pulse quickened. She had to make a move soon.

 _Wait._

Claire gritted her teeth in frustration. She looked up and saw the morloke still watching.

The gryphon was craning its neck down towards the unconscious hobbit. Its jagged beak opened.

 _Wait._

The taloned claw wrapped tighter around Peregrin's chest, pulling him closer to the gryphon's open maw. The morloke, satisfied with what it had witnessed, turned and crawled away from the scene.

 _Now!_

The gryphon never knew what hit it. Claire's sword flashed and the beast's head was a puff of ash before it hit the ground.

Claire sheathed her sword and bent down next to Peregrin. She laid her fingers under his jaw and felt his pulse. It was faint, but it was there. She patted the side of his face and said, "Peregrin. Come on Peregrin stay with me." There was no response.

She then noticed the terrible gash in his side. This must be the source of all the blood. Hastily, she tore off a bit of her cloak and wrapped it around his middle. That helped a bit, but she knew that eventually he would need stitches. She had to get him to Losswen's house. Her old friend had worked in the Houses of Healing after the Siege. Surely she would know how to stitch up such a wound.

Claire got her arms under Peregrin's shoulders, but when she tried to lift him, she found he was too heavy for her to carry. Even though he was a hobbit, he probably weighed at least 100 pounds if not more.

"Oh Eru help me," she pleaded. "What do I do?"

As if in answer to her prayer, she heard the soft beat of reptilian wings on the air. Looking up she saw Laemellon descend. The vanaloke gasped when she saw Peregrin. "Eru help us," she breathed as she bent down to examine him. "Is he alive?"

"He's lost a lot of blood, but he still lives," Claire said. "Can you carry him?"

The vanaloke bent down and lifted the hobbit in her arms. "I can," Laemellon said. "But I can't fly with him. We will have to go on foot."

Claire nodded. Rising to her feet she drew her sword. "We need to move quickly. I'll cut us a path. Is Prisca safe?"

As they began to walk briskly down the street, Laemellon said, "Yes. Losswen was quite shocked to see us, but I tried my best to explain things to her. She had no idea these creatures were even here. As soon as I knew the hobbit was safe, I came to find you."

"It's a good thing you did," Claire panted as they began to jog. "I wouldn't get very far carrying him on my own."

"Let's just hope we're not too late," the vanaloke panted.

Claire ran ahead as Laemellon came behind her bearing the unconscious hobbit. The gryphons parted before them as Claire held out her sword in front of her. The city was crawling with the terrible creatures, yet it seemed like the majority of them were on the first two levels. Coming onto the third level at last, they saw no sign of them.

As they approached Losswen's door, Claire breathed a prayer of thanks. She knocked frantically. The door swung open and Losswen appeared before them.

"Oh thank heaven!" the young woman exclaimed. "Prisca told me all about-"

Claire and Laemellon pushed past her and into the house. Losswen gasped when she saw Peregrin in Laemellon's arms. Prisca was standing in the living room. The poor hobbit had never seen her cousin in such a state and she became quite pale.

"We can catch up later," Claire said. "He's got a serious gash in his side. We need to clean the wound and stitch it up."

"Take him upstairs," Losswen said before running to the kitchen. "Prisca come help me with the water. Claeo, the needle and thread are in the dresser drawer upstairs."

There was a lot of frantic rushing about for a while after that. Losswen washed Pippin's wound and carefully stitched it up. As she did this, the three travelers relayed to the young woman all that had gone on.

"I had no idea such terrible things were happening outside," Losswen said as she carefully tied the knot on her stitching. "I heard the alarm raised three times like everyone else. When that happens, citizens are required to return to their homes until the all clear is sounded."

Prisca handed her the clean bandages she had fetched and Losswen wrapped the gauze around Peregrin's middle. When she finished, she retrieved a new shirt and pulled it over his head. It was too big, but it was better than what he had been wearing. His old shirt lay in the corner of the room, soaked with blood and a horrible tear on one side.

At last the four of them could breathe and Losswen brought them tea. There was a lot to process. Perhaps when Peregrin awoke he could shed some light on what exactly was happening in this city.

* * *

Higher up on the fifth level, the morloke who had been watching the demise of Peregrin walked eagerly towards a hooded figure. The ominous person turned as he approached. The morloke bowed and the figure bid him speak.

"It's done," the morloke said. "The halfling is dead."

Beneath the hood, a hideous mouth grinned.

"Perfect."


	16. The Revelation

**The Revelation**

The first thing Peregrin heard was the rain. It was distant, like rain falling on a roof; muted and constant. A rumble of thunder woke him further. As he at last opened his eyes he saw that he was lying in a large bed in a bedroom. There was no one else in the room with him but there were lanterns and candles lit like someone had been there recently. His mind began to clear and he suddenly remembered what had happened. Or at least what he could remember before he had lost consciousness.

For a moment he wondered if it had all been a dream, but then he looked across the room. Draped over the back of a chair was his shirt. It had been white, but it was now stained red with his own blood. Peregrin swallowed and slowly reached a hand across his torso to feel his side. There was a bandage there and it hurt to put pressure on it. He could feel the bumpy ridge of the stitches and he dared crane his neck to look down at himself. He was wearing an oversized shirt that didn't belong to him.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position. It hurt to move, but sitting up made his head feel clearer. As he continued to examine the room, the door across from the bed opened. A woman entered carrying some blankets. When she turned around and saw him sitting up, she jumped and gave a startled yelp.

"Oh, Sir Peregrin! You're awake."

He recognized this person as Losswen, the young woman Claeo had befriended during the war. Losswen stared at him in wonder.

"How do you feel," she asked, setting down the blankets.

"I - I feel alright," he said haltingly. "How did I -"

"Oh, Claeo and Laemellon brought you here," Losswen said. "You were badly wounded. Luckily I remembered what I learned all those years ago in the Houses of Healing."

Peregrin's mouth went dry. His eyes were wide in astonishment.

"Did you say Claeo? She...she's here in Minas Tirith?"

"Yes," Losswen said. "She's downstairs. Laemellon left a few hours ago to scout out the city. And there's someone else here who is anxious to see you." She gave a knowing smile that Peregrin didn't understand. "I'll go tell them you're awake."

With that word the young woman left the room and shut the door behind her.

Peregrin sat dumbstruck. He had wondered if it had all been a result of losing so much blood. His strange vision of seeing Claeo in Minas Tirith and then calling to her was uncanny. The situation had seemed so impossible. How could he have possibly survived?

 _This is not how you are supposed to die._

The words he had heard rang in his head. Had it really been Eru? Since the war, he had doubted Claeo's trust in such an obscure being. But now after hearing His voice, asking for help, and then finding himself alive, Peregrin didn't have much room for doubt anymore.

The door to the bedroom opened and Claeo stepped into the room. After 4 years, she didn't look any different save the length of her hair. She smiled when she saw him sitting up. Peregrin stared at her in amazement.

"You're here," he said incredulously.

"Hello Peregrin," she said smiling. "It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you as well. But...what are you doing in Minas Tirith?"

Claeo sat down in a chair next to the bed. "Well, we've been discussing that. Simply put, I was told to go to Minas Tirith and seek the one who called to me. Turns out it was you."

"You - you heard me call to you?"

She nodded. "I did, but I'm not sure exactly how. And I was also able to find you in an odd way. You were…You were glowing."

The hobbit stared at her. He wasn't sure how to process this.

"Pippin," Claeo said. "What happened to you?"

Peregrin opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted. Another person entered the room and this individual elicited a much different reaction from the knight of Gondor.

"By the Shire!" Peregrin exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Prisca Baggins stood at the door smiling mischievously.

"'Prisca, you are not going to Minas Tirith'," the hobbit girl said in her most mocking impression of him. "That's what you said wasn't it? But here I am."

Peregrin turned to Claeo. "You have something to do with this don't you?"

The young human cringed. "I may have run into your cousin along the way. She threatened to follow me if I didn't bring her along."

The older hobbit turned back to Prisca. He was still incredulous at the whole situation.

"Are you mad at me, Pip," Prisca asked less mockingly.

Peregrin shook his head. "I'm not mad. I dare say I'm impressed that you made it this far. Though I would wish that you were in Minas Tirith under better circumstances. Do Porto and Estella know you are here?"

"Well...no," Prisca said. "I sort of ran away. But when we got to Rivendell, I met this person called the Owl and she told me that I was destined to be a Realm Jumper like Claeo. So we have been traveling to Minas Tirith and she's been teaching me." The hobbit's eyes fell. "It - it hasn't turned out exactly like the Owl said. She didn't say anything about you being attacked."

"Indeed," Peregrin said. "I spoke to her when I was in Rivendell on my way here. She told me a lot of very mysterious things, but I would have appreciated it if she had warned me that my letter was a trap."

"What do you mean," Claeo asked. "And for that matter, what _is_ going on in this city? What are those creatures that attacked you?"

"I don't know. I only just arrived in the city today so I suspect I know as much as you do. As for my letter, it was supposed to be from King Aragorn. I received it around Mid-year's day. It said that I was to return to Minas Tirith and lend my aid as a knight. That's why I came here. But when I arrived, they had no idea I was coming."

"What happened after you arrived," Claeo asked.

Peregrin took a deep breath. Just remembering the ordeal was difficult.

"The alarm went up that the city was under attack. They shut the gates thinking that the danger was coming from outside the city, but they were very wrong. After the third alarm went up, those...things began to flood the city. People were running and screaming. It was chaos."

He put his hands on the side of his head. "I - I remember running. One of the creatures snapped a man's neck like it was nothing. Maleth, the warden of the first level of the city...he ran with me, but he didn't make it. Then I was trapped."

Peregrin stared out into space remembering. In his mind's eye, he could still see the creature, his death burning in its eyes.

"I heard a voice say ' _This is not how you are supposed to die.'_ "

He turned his head slowly and looked at Claeo. "I think it was Eru."

The girl was astonished. "What?"

"He told me that this was wrong, that I wasn't meant to die this way, and that He hadn't forgotten me. Just like you said in the Wood Between the Worlds."

"Pippin," Claeo said, still taken aback. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I asked Him to save me. And then suddenly I saw you. I called to you and then...then I don't remember anymore."

Claeo seemed to be putting something together in her mind. She looked at him hard, as if she could bore a hole through him with her eyes.

"Could it be," she said softly under her breath. Then louder she said, "Let me try something."

Claeo closed her eyes and when she opened them, her eyes were burning with that same bright blue tinged glow that Peregrin had seen before. The young girl's mouth hung opened and she gasped. She blinked and her eyes were normal again.

"What? What is it?" Peregrin said, becoming more than a bit concerned by her reaction. Prisca looked on from where she stood by the door. She had a troubled expression on her face as well.

"Peregrin," Claeo said leaning forward. "I want you to try something. Close your eyes and concentrate really hard. Ask Eru to let you see things the way they really are."

"What?"

"Just - just try it," she said reassuringly.

Peregrin looked at the young girl warily. He knew that Eru was real now and he had no doubt that the supposed Creator of Middle-earth had spoken to him and most likely had a hand in saving his life. The hobbit shut his eyes and said, "Let me see things the way they really are."

When he opened his eyes, Peregrin thought back to that day that never happened. When he had seen Claeo while he had been wearing the Ring of Power. Now he saw her the same way. She glowed with a strange blue light. Claeo was beaming and on the verge of laughing.

Peregrin turned and looked at Prisca who was still standing by the door. She was a shadow, detailed and recognizable, but dark and very different from how Claeo appeared.

"I don't understand," Peregrin said looking down at his own hands. He also had the same blue glow about him. "This is how it looked when I was wearing the Ring."

"Peregrin," Claeo said, now almost on the verge of tears."You're eyes are glowing like mine."

He looked at her with a furrowed brow, his mind starting to comprehend what she was saying.

"Somehow," she said. "You are a Realm Jumper."

Peregrin glanced over at Prisca who now looked even more perplexed.

"But...how can that be," he asked.

"Well you did go to the Wood Between the Worlds once," Claeo said. "And then you called on Eru to save you. I suppose it makes sense." She sat up straight and then gasped, "I wonder if you being able to call to me like you did is your special ability?"

"My what?"

"I can explain it to you later. Or maybe Prisca can…"

They both glanced to where the hobbit girl was standing, but there was no one there. Prisca was gone.

* * *

Laemellon sat on a rooftop as the rain dripped off of her long snout. She had tried to see if there was a source to these creatures, a place where they entered the city that could be shut. However that was pointless now; the city was full of the beasts and they had spread themselves out in no discernible pattern.

She had seen no sign of the morloke that Claeo had mentioned. Now that it was dark, she thought it would be better to return to Losswen's house and give a report.

As she looked down on the levels below, a flash of lightning lit the city before her. Another flash came and something caught her eye. There was movement down below. One of the creatures was moving towards the southern side of the city. No...not just one. There were many of the creatures moving that same direction. Other beasts were also moving upwards from the first level. In the flashes of lightning, Laemellon began to see the horrifying truth.

They were converging on the south side of the third level.

Losswen's house.

* * *

"But I still don't understand," Peregrin said. "How can I be a Realm Jumper?

Clarie shook her head incredulously. She still couldn't believe this was happening.

"I don't know what to tell you, Peregrin. All I know is that Elrain once told me that stuff like this is rare but it does happen. Exposure to the Wood is what gives the Realm Jumpers their abilities and Eru's power activates them. When you asked for His help, it must have activated your power. I noticed that the creature attacking you had a burned eye. Do you remember burning its eye?"

"No," Peregrin said. "I remember its face was close to mine right before I asked for help."

Clarie nearly jumped from her seat. "That's it! It's this." She ignited her hand and held it up in front of him. The hobbit backed away a little, wary of her flaming appendage.

"My sword uses the flame from my hands. The fire that comes from Eru's power. It usually doesn't actually burn anything, but it burns those creatures. When I first got my powers, there was a sort of ...shockwave that went out. A burst of energy. It burned Morlyg pretty badly. I wonder if when you became a Realm Jumper, the activation of your powers burned that creature."

"So my power is that I can see people far away?"

"Maybe. Have you tried to see anyone else?"

"No," the hobbit said. "I suppose since I woke up here, I thought it was all a hallucination from losing so much blood."

The two sat in silence for a moment. Claire's mind was spinning. How ironic was it that Prisca, who was supposed to be a Realm Jumper, didn't fit the bill. On the other hand, Peregrin was now one and didn't even realize it.

"So what happens now," Peregrin asked. "Do I have to travel between worlds doing what you do?"

"No I don't think so," Claire said. "Technically you are a Realm Jumper but only in title. I don't think this changes much."

"It changes a lot for me," he countered. "Knowing that all your talk about Eru being in control isn't rubbish changes quite a bit. Does He talk often or just when your life is in danger?"

Claire shrugged. "It depends. I talk to Him a lot. Usually if I say something to Him, He has something to say back. He is very wise. You can count on Him to guide you when you need it most."

Peregrin nodded. He was having to process a lot. Claire changed the subject.

"I hope Prisca isn't too broken up about this."

"How so," the hobbit asked with concern.

"Because you are a Realm Jumper and she's not." Claire sighed and said, "Our trip was going good for a while. I was teaching her all she needed to know, but there was something holding her back. At Edoras she finally told me. She doesn't trust Eru. She said that if no one else in her life remembered her, why would He. She's bitter at her past."

"She has had a difficult life," Peregrin said solemnly. "The hobbits of the Shire have never liked her. The same day I got my letter, she was accosted by a group of young hobbits and was very nearly in a fight."

"Good grief! Was she hurt?"

"No. Sam put a stop to it. But it wasn't the first time something like that had happened. I often felt sorry for her. She needed a friend more than anything. I tried to be that for her as much as I could."

Claire rubbed her eyes. This was a fine mess they were in. The city was under attack from some unknown horde of beasts, Peregrin had nearly been killed, and now on top of that there was drama amongst her companions. Claire breathed a silent prayer for guidance. She felt better after that, yet she sensed that things were only going to get more complicated before the end.

* * *

Prisca sat downstairs in the sitting room wallowing in self pity. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs that it wasn't fair. How could Peregrin be a Realm Jumper when she was supposed to be the one with the "destiny"? All the doubts she had about the good will Eru apparently had towards her flooded into her mind. Claeo was wrong about Him. Prisca had been promised so much and now the rug had been pulled out from under her.

As she sat on the couch, arms crossed, stewing in her bitterness, she decided then and there that when this was all over, she would go home and do her best to never dream of adventure again. This was not anything like she had imagined. Peregrin had been right when he had told her that she was romanticizing things. He was always right it seemed and Prisca hated him for it. Yet she couldn't hate him too much. He had almost died today, but that didn't make her any less angry.

Her brooding was interrupted by the front door flying open. Laemellon rushed inside and slammed the door behind her. She was dripping wet and her wings were pulled tight against her body. Losswen came out of the kitchen when she heard the commotion of her entrance. She and Prisca both stared at Laemellon's terrified expression. They both uttered a gasp of fear at the vanaloke's next words.

"Those creatures know where we are. They're coming!"


	17. The Night Attack

**The Night Attack**

The door flew open as Laemellon interrupted Claire and Peregrin's conversation. Prisca and Losswen followed in their wake with worried expressions.

"They're coming, Claeo!" the vanaloke gasped as she tried to catch her breath. She was still soaking wet and her eyes were wide. "I saw them. At least thirty coming this way. I don't know how they know we're here, but we have to get out, get to cover...something."

Claire rose from her seat and walked over to Laemellon. "Hey, just breath," she said trying to reassure her friend as well as herself. "We need to keep our heads. Where did you-"

Suddenly there came a crash from downstairs. It sounded like the door had blown into the sitting room and was now thrashing around chaotically.

The next few seconds were a blur of scrambling and terror. One of the creatures was coming up the stairs. Losswen screamed and ran from where she had been in the hallway into the other upstairs bedroom. As the young woman slammed the door Prisca ran forwards into the room where Claire, Laemellon, and Peregrin were.

Laemellon spun around and threw her full weight against the door of the bedroom. As the wooden door swung into the frame, Claire turned around just in time to see one of the Gryphons thrust its massive head forward. Its beak came through and snapped several times, its sharp jaws splintering the wood of the door frame. It made a horrible gurgling screeching noise. Prisca backed away as Claire drew her sword and jabbed it through the beast's skull. The creature's hard head disintegrated into ash and the door slammed shut under Laemellon's weight.

At almost that same moment a large taloned claw burst through a window near where Prisca was standing. Laemellon left the door and sprang towards the flailing claw. Prisca ducked down on the floor as the vanaloke extended her own claws and severed the appendage. It flopped to the floor where it twitched a few times and then lay still.

Peregrin had moved to the furthest edge of the bed, trying to get away from the chaos that was happening. He attempted to get up but groaned in pain as his motion pulled on the stitches in his side. Claire moved to help him. "No Peregrin. Don't get up. You'll-," she began to say, but was interrupted by what happened next.

The door to the bedroom flew open and Lamellon swore something in elvish as she tried to shut it again. But it was useless. Now two gryphons poked their heads into the room. The group was divided, Claire and Peregrin on one side of the room and Laemellon and Prisca on the other near the window.

The gryphon facing Laemellon was the largest one they had yet seen and to make matters worse, a third beast was coming up behind it. They were in tight quarters now so the vanaloke did the best thing she could think of. She reached up and and with an incredible show of strength, ripped the window frame out of its moorings. She tossed it at the advancing gryphon who batted the the frame away. Laemellon began to crawl out of the window frame and into the rainy darkness outside. Yet before she disappeared completely, the vanaloke reached out and grabbed Prisca by the collar and pulled her out after her. Prisca screamed as she was pulled out into the darkness. One of the gryphon's followed after them. It clawed and scraped until it pushed it huge body through the opening.

Now Claire was left to face the other two creatures. She held her flaming sword in front of her as the first gryphon made its move. But as its head snapped and her sword came down, the second beast came at her from the side. The brunt of its beak struck her in the shoulder and she fell to the floor. Her sword clattered just out of reach. She rolled on her stomach and began to crawl towards it.

That was when the claw came down. Two huge talons wrapped around her shoulders and dragged her back. She dug her nails into the floor needlessly. "No no nonono," she gasped. This was not going to end well. The creature's other claw came down on top of her outstretched arms. She ignited her hands, hoping to burn the beast, but the way that it held her to the floor made that impossible. It was almost as if the creatures now understood that they needed to keep her sword and hands away from them. They were learning.

A huge beak pecked at the floor next to her face and she screamed. She had been close to death before, but that didn't make this any less terrifying. In the blur of her demise she heard metal scraping against the wooden floor a few feet away. She craned her neck up to see what was happening and was astonished at what she saw.

There stood Peregrin, her sword in his hands. He no longer looked like he was in pain. In fact, as he gripped the hilt of the blade tighter, he seemed to gain new strength. He lifted the sword and his eyes began to burn bright blue. There were no flames along the metal shaft, but Claire thought she detected a slight glow from the blade. Was Peregrin able to use her sword? The weapon gave her increased agility and dexterity and it was now evident that it was doing this to him as well.

Peregrin's gaze narrowed as he looked the gryphon in the eye and said, "Let her go." The gryphon holding Claire screeched challengingly. In response, the hobbit sprang forward, ducked an upraised claw and swung the sword upwards. The creature's head flew from its body and flopped on the other side of the room. But there was no vanishing into ash this time. Without Claire's fire, the corpse of the gryphon came down on top of her with a thud. Luckily being half bird, it wasn't as heavy as a creature its size would normally indicate. She wasn't crushed, but she was now most definitely pinned to the floor.

The second gryphon lept over the body of its comrade and jumped at the sword wielding hobbit. With speed and precision, Peregrin spun to the side and caught the creature's front feet. Its momentum took it forward and the gryphon slammed into the far wall. There was a terrible snap as its neck was broken. The beast flopped and twitched on the floor behind Peregrin.

From beneath the dead gryphon, Claire looked on in wonder at her friend's swordsmanship. Peregrin began to put down the sword.

"No wait!" she gasped, but too late.

The hobbit set the sword on the bed and strode forward to help her. Yet as soon as he let go of the blade, its energy-giving powers left him. Peregrin slumped to his knees and gripped at his stitched up side as he fell to the floor. The sword had served to dull the agony of his injury, but now it was no longer affecting him. He collapsed and soon passed out from the pain.

Claire was now trapped underneath a dead gryphon and with her friend passed out next to her on the floor. She prayed that Laemellon and Prisca were faring better than they were.

* * *

Hanging by only her coat, Prisca found herself suspended above the city street below. Her curly hair, now completely soaked, hung around her face and stuck to her forehead and lips. She sputtered and spat as she flailed her arms trying to grab something, anything. Suddenly, her whole body was flipped around and Laemellon's right arm wrapped around her midriff. She was being hauled up the side of Losswen's house as the vanaloke dug her claws into the masonry.

When they reached the pinnacle of the roof, Prisca yelled through the rain, "Put me down! Let go of me!" She wasn't some kind of child to be toted around by this huge lizard. She squirmed indignantly beneath the vanaloke's grip.

Laemellon let her go and immediately Prisca began to slip on the wet roof.

"Grab me! Grab me!" she screamed. Laemellon shot out a hand and caught her by the arm. In the dim flashes of lightening, the two of them made eye contact. The vanaloke smirked down at her as Prisca glared back.

Hoisting the hobbit onto her back as she had done before, Laemellon dug the claws on her feet and hands into the roof as deep as they would go. As Prisca held onto the vanaloke's neck for dear life, Laemellon craned her head back to speak to hobbit.

"We should be safe up here. They can't climb sheer stone. As long as we don't-"

A taloned claw reached over the lip of the roof. Laemellon and Prisca stared at it in horror. How it had gotten up that high, neither of them could tell. Laemellon turned her body to face the creature and extended her wings downward to balance herself and compensate for the weight clinging to her back.

Laemellon lurched back with a cry. Prisca turned her head and saw another gryphon with its beak clamped over the vanaloke's wing. Laemellon pulled at her wing, he eyes wide in pain and terror. Prisca felt the muscles in her long reptilian neck tighten as she pulled for dear life.

That was when the gryphon let go.

For a moment Prisca was flying through the air, her grip on the vanaloke's neck lost. Then she hit the roof and began to slide down the wet slats until she met the edge. Mercifully, there was a lower section of roof just below and she fell onto it with a wet thud. She continued to slide until she dropped about five feet into a very old and neglected patch of bushes. The hobbit tumbled out of them onto the cold cobblestone street. She was flat on her back now, staring up at the height she had fallen from. It was a miracle she had survived.

She heard scraping behind her and she sprang to her feet. As Prisca wobbled on shaky legs, she now saw that she was face to face with at least six gryphons. She backed up until she was pressed against the side of the house. The only way of escape was the ledge nearby that led to a steep drop onto the second level of the city. Prisca was trapped.

Was this it? Was this going to be the moment that Eru would hear her plea and give her Realm Jumping abilities? She certainly hoped so. Yet as she stood there facing death, the only thing she could think about was how typical this was for her. Everything else had gone bad. And now she was going to die, ripped apart by gryphons and not heroically like she had always imagined. Bitterness welled up in her heart again. She wanted to be rescued, she didn't want to die, but she couldn't bring herself to call on the One who obviously hated her so much. Her pride was too great for that.

A shadow lept in front of her. Laemellon stood claws extended, wings pulled back. Positioning herself between the gryphons and the hobbit, the vanaloke let out a sound that could only be described as a roar. The gryphons roared back and jumped on her.

The next few moments were a blur of rain and fighting as Prisca continued to press herself against the wall. Ever did the gryphons reach for her and ever did Laemellon fight them off. One by one the vanaloke dispatched them with her long sword-like claws as the rain continued to pour.

As the number of attackers waned, so did the vanaloke's strength. As the last few gryphons bore down on her, one of the other beasts lunged at Prisca. Laemellon threw the gryphon off of herself and swung a wing towards the creature attacking Prisca. The beast's claw flew low and caught Laemellon's wing with its sharp talons. Prisca heard a horrible ripping sound accompanied by such a cry of pain that she thought her ears would burst.

Laemellon drove her clawed right hand into the beast's brain and the gryphon fell at her feet dead. The vanaloke still stood, but her right wing hung limp at her side. She was panting hard and her shoulders quivered with every breath. The other gryphons stood still, watching the winged warrior with wary eyes.

And then they turned and, as casually as cats, they began to saunter away from the house. Other gryphons followed suite as the whole group began to wander away from the scene of the attack. Prisca stood behind Laemellon gawking. Why were they leaving? None of this made sense.

The vanaloke fell to her knees. Prisca rushed over and saw that the membrane of her right wing had been torn. Putting her weight on Prisca's shoulder, Laemellon stood. The hobbit had never see someone in so much pain.

* * *

Claire reached a flaming hand behind her and gripped the flesh of the dead gryphon on top of her. Instantly the weight was gone, but she coughed in disgust as she suddenly found herself covered in ash.

Pulling herself from the floor, she rushed over to Peregrin. The hobbit's eyes fluttered as she smacked the side of his cheek. He grimaced and reached for his side. The bandage was bloody. Claire hissed through her teeth and put a hand over her mouth as she realized what had happened. In the midst of his amazing swordsmanship, Peregrin had torn the stitches.

It was then that Claire realized how quiet it had suddenly become. She picked up her sword and crept to the window. Looking out she could see no sign of the gryphons anywhere. She poked her head out of the bedroom door and into the hallway. None there either.

Losswen crept cautiously out of the other bedroom. She too had noticed how quiet it was. Together the two of them hoisted Peregrin onto the bed. He cried out in pain as the young servant girl turned him on his side and removed the bandages. He had indeed torn her first stitches and she set to work on repairing the damage.

No sooner had she started, Claire heard Prisca's voice downstairs. Rushing down the steps, the young girl was met with a disturbing sight. Laemellon was leaning on Prisca, her right wing limp and bloody. The vanaloke's blue blood had left a dark streak across the floor from the door to the foot of the steps. When Laemellon saw Claire, she collapsed to the floor.

"Laemellon!" Claire cried as she rushed to her friend's side. Turning to Prisca she asked frantically, "What happened?"

"We were attacked," the hobbit said shakily. "Her wing is torn."

Lamellon's hand shot up and gripped Claire by the collar. She pulled the girl close and gasped, "You...have to sew up my wing...like the halfling's side...quickly...or I'll...mmmm-" Her last word was the beginning of a moan that shook her whole body. "I'll never fly again...hurry."

Claire dashed up the steps and into the bedroom where Losswen was stitching up Peregrin. She grabbed another needle and thread and then hurried back downstairs. Laemellon was sitting against the wall now, her wing spread out as far as she could manage. The membrane was torn nearly in two. It was very fortunate that it hadn't been torn completely.

Claire sat on the floor next to her and began to string the thread through the needle. Laemellon leaned against the wall as she began to take deep breaths in preparation of the pain.

"If I don't make it through this," she said. "I want you to know that it was an honor to be your friend."

"Could this kill you?" Claire gasped.

"I don't know," the vanaloke said. "I feel like I'm dying, so I felt to the need to tie up any loose ends I have."

Claire smiled as she snipped the thread with a pair of scissors Prisca had brought. "You and I aren't a loose end Laemellon. It is an honor to be your friend as well."

"I just want you to know," Laemellon said. "In case I never get the chance to say it again...I have no regrets about coming here and standing by your side."

Claire wanted to lay a reassuring hand on her vanaloke friend's shoulder, but she thought better of it. She had never seen her in such pain. Just seeing her friend like this made Claire's eyes well with tears.

Laemellon instructed Prisca to bring her one of the smaller logs near the fireplace. The vanaloke shoved it between her sharp teeth and bit down hard. She nodded at Claire and the young girl began to sew the membrane with shaky nervous hands.

Prisca held Lamellon's hand tightly as the vanaloke groaned with pain. Her head rolled from side to side and tears welled up in her large purple eyes as Claire made the last stitch and tied the thread. She grabbed a cloth from the kitchen and cleaned up the wound as best she could.

"Tie my wing shut," Laemellon said after removing the log from her mouth. "I can't risk using it until it heals."

As Claire wrapped the wing with with a strip of cloth, she asked, "How long will it take to heal?"

"Months," her friend said, finally catching her breath. "It will heal back stronger than before, but I mustn't use it until it is well."

Satisfied that Laemellon would be alright, Claire turned to Prisca. The hobbit was soaked to the skin and her face was grim.

"Are you ok?"

The hobbit nodded, but didn't say anything. The look on her face said that she didn't want to talk so Claire obliged.

It was about midnight now. The front door was broken in and the frame of the front window in the bedroom was gone, but that was about the extent of the damage. All the dead gryphons and other appendages turned to ash at Claire's touch. Losswen showed Claire where she had some spare wood and nails stored. They boarded up the window and the doorway and for the first time that night, they seemed to be somewhat secure.

Prisca finally told Claire about how the Gryphons had turned and left. This was both encouraging and unsettling. How had they known where to attack in the first place? Why the sudden decision to leave?

Claire agreed to stand watch for the first half of that night. At about 3 in the morning, she woke Losswen and the young woman took her place. For the first time that night they all were able to get some sleep, though for most it was an uneasy rest. This terrible night was coming to an end and everyone hoped that the morning would bring relief from whatever madness was happening in this city.

* * *

"Why did you call the beasts off?" the morloke said as it gazed down at the house below them.

The hooded figure crouched next to the morloke as they peered over the wall of the fourth level. Thunder rumbled overhead. The rain was letting up and the dawn would come soon. In the grey light they would descend and finish this. The figure smiled.

"I want the Venë Faeur for myself," it hissed.


	18. The Vision

**The Vision**

"It's not much, but considering what this house has been through I think it will do."

Losswen sat a plate of food in front of Prisca. It was early the next morning, before the sun had even risen. None of them had been able to sleep deeply and they all eventually wandered down to the kitchen. All except Peregrin. He still lay upstairs recovering from his injury. Losswen wasn't hopeful about his wound. Ripping the stitches left him more open to infection. When this was over he would need a professional healer.

Prisca stared at the plate in front of her. It contained an old piece of bread and a few dates. Claire sat across from her. The young girl had been given a similar plate and was now scarfing down the bread like she hadn't eaten in days. Looking up, Claire noticed Prisca sitting motionless.

"Prisca you need to eat something."

Laemellon shuffled into the kitchen and gingerly sat down at the table. Her wing was still tied shut and she very carefully swung it over the back of her chair. Claire could now see a bruise forming over her right eye as well.

"How is Peregrin?" Laemellon asked as Losswen set a plate in front of her.

"I checked on him an hour ago," Losswen said. "He's still sleeping. He was mumbling a few things in his sleep. I'm worried he may develop a fever."

Losswen joined them at the table and for a few moments the four sat in silence. Claire finished off her dates and took a swig from the cup of water next to her. "As soon as it's light," she said. "I'm going outside. It's time we got to the bottom of whatever is happening in this city."

Prisca looked up. "You're going out with those creatures out there?"

"Yes. I'll be fine," Claire said. "I managed pretty well yesterday."

"But not last night." The hobbit's voice rose louder than usual and Losswen and Laemellon turned to look at her. Prisca's face drawn tight in anger. "You were nearly killed."

Claire nodded. "Yes, but someone has to go out there. We can't stay in this house forever. We'll just have to trust Eru to get us through this. He's -"

"Enough!" Prisca shouted standing to her feet. "I'm so tired of hearing about how Eru is going to fix things. He hasn't fixed anything for us."

Claire looked up as the hobbit stormed from the kitchen into the front sitting room. The boarded up door looked odd and out of place amidst the very normal room as Prisca began to pace in frustration. Claire got up and walked after her.

The hobbit spun around challengingly. Her voice was shaky as said, "You will die if you go out there. This situation is hopeless!"

"No it's not!" Claire retorted. "Prisca why don't you sit down."

"No! I will not sit down. I will not just 'trust that everything will be alright'. Things are not alright. From the moment we got here, things have been horrible." Her voice broke as she began to cry. "This is not how I wanted things to be. Minas Tirith was supposed to be what I always dreamed of. But it's hell! That's what it is. This is not what I wanted."

Claire was becoming flustered. "This isn't what I wanted either. Do you think I wanted to almost get eaten alive by some gryphon? I'm as frustrated as you, but we have to think positively or we are going to lose our minds."

Prisca shook her head and sobbed, "No. I'm done. I don't want adventure anymore. I want to go home."

"Well you can't go home Prisca," Claire said looking down at the hobbit girl. "You ran away and you begged me to let you come with me. You-." She had started to say "You have no one to blame but yourself" but then thought better of it. "You just need to trust me. I've been in dark situations like this before, but Eru is always faithful."

The hobbit gripped her head again and said, "No! Eru hasn't helped us. He didn't help me last night. I was faced with death and my powers never came. If He's so good how come Peregrin was almost killed? How come Laemellon had to endure such agony?"

Prisca's voice rose louder as she cried, "If He's so good, then why is all of this happening in Minas Tirith? He doesn't care about us at all. He's never cared about me."

"Prisca, that's not true."

"Yes it is! You have no idea what my life has been like. I've been so alone-"

"So have I!" Claire yelled. The hobbit stopped and looked up at her with wide eyes. Claire's voice was shaky as she said, "I know what it's like to be alone. To feel that you don't have a single solid friend in the world." She paused and her gaze softened. "But when I met you and we started traveling together...I thought that maybe, just maybe I found a friend at last. Someone who would be like a...well like a sister to me. I care about you Prisca! I wanted you to have a nice adventure, but things don't always work out the way we want them. That's why we have to suck it up and trust in Eru."

"Well I don't trust Him," the hobbit snapped bitterly. "I hate Him. And you are a fool for trusting someone you've never even met face to face."

Laemellon who was now standing in the doorway of the kitchen gasped. Claire's eyes began to well up with tears.

"Prisca, you don't mean that."

"I do!" the hobbit sobbed.

"Prisca no. Don't -"

The hobbit got in Claire's face as much as one of her stature could. Her face was twisted in rage as she said, "If He's real and cares about us, why doesn't He show Himself? You say He talks to you. Well He's never talked to me."

The hobbit spun on her heels and began to twirl around the room, hands raised, her eyes looking up to the ceiling. "I'm listening," she said defiantly. "Why don't you show yourself? Answer me!"

Prisca suddenly gasped in a breath. The hobbit's eyes rolled back in her head as she slumped to the floor.

"Prisca!" Claire cried. She knelt down beside the hobbit. Prisca was out cold. Claire patted her cheeks to wake her, but there was no response.

"What's happened," Laemellon asked as she stood over them.

Claire sat on the floor next to the unconscious hobbit. "I don't know," she said, her voice heavy with concern.

Losswen who had been watching the altercation from the doorway to the kitchen, gasped and put a hand over her mouth. Claire looked up to see what had frightened her. All eyes turned to look at the person coming down the stairs.

On steady feet, his hand firmly gripping the banister, came Peregrin Took. He showed no sign of pain on his face. His eyes were burning bright with _the sight_ as he stepped off of the last step and into the room. He seemed to be in almost a dream-like trance. His head turned, looking at each one of them. At last his bright gaze fell on Claire.

"I have seen her. She is here in the city," he said. "She is coming."

Peregrin blinked and took a breath. His eyes were their standard green again.

"Who is coming, Pippin," Losswen asked.

Peregrin's eyes were still fixed on Claire and the unconscious Prisca as he said, "In the night I had a vision from Eru, I think. He told me to tell you that if you fight, your opponent will die."

"What does that mean," Claire asked.

"I cannot say. But as a sign that His words are true, He did this."

The hobbit lifted up the side of the oversized shirt he wore. The bandages were gone and for that matter, so were the stitches. His wound was completely healed.

Claire, Laemellon, and Losswen were utterly speechless. "By the Valar," the vanaloke finally muttered.

A shadow fell across the boarded up entry and Claire got such a chill, that she thought she might pass out like the hobbit in her arms.

Peregrin gazed at the doorway with wide fear filled eyes.

"She is here."

* * *

First there was darkness. Then Prisca was vaguely aware that she was standing on solid ground. She was surrounded by grey nothingness that was like a fog. There was a vague memory of having been in Losswen's living room.

"What...where am I?" she said.

 _You asked me to show myself,_ a Voice said behind her. The Voice was low and carried a weight that the hobbit had never experienced before. Prisca wanted to turn, but she found that she couldn't. She began to breath harder. What was happening? Was this a dream?

 _You cannot comprehend my appearance in this world, young one,_ the Voice said. _So I am appearing to you in a guize that you can understand._

Prisca turned, or rather was allowed to turn. Before her she beheld a huge creature. So huge in fact that Prisca found herself trembling in fear. It was a lion, or at least what she understood to be a lion. She had never seen one before, but Claeo had described them to her when she had told Prisca the stories of Narnia. And standing before Prisca, the hobbit now beheld _the_ Lion.

He stared down at her, his golden eyes bright with some otherworldly light. His face was kind yet terrible and Prisca's knees grew weak.

 _I am here, young one,_ He said. _Are you still listening?_

Prisca's throat had gone dry. Her words came out shaky and weak.

"Y-yes," she said.

The Lion leaned its head down and Prisca began to tremble even more. The creature before her was big enough to crush her with a single blow of its paw. She put up her hands as she continued to shake with fear. As the huge face came closer, she wondered if this was it. She knew she had said things she shouldn't have said and Prisca wondered if she was about to get what she deserved. She shut her eyes tight and fell to her knees.

But there was no slash of teeth or tearing of her person. Instead a soft voice said, _I have come to answer your questions, dear one. Are you ready to know what your heart desires?_

Prisca opened her eyes and looked up at Him. The Lion's face hadn't changed, but she no longer felt afraid. She didn't really know what He meant, but she nodded anyway.

Suddenly the greyness around them changed. They were standing on a high terrace overlooking a city. But it was a city like nothing Prisca had ever seen. There were colors that she couldn't define and in the sky hung a sun much larger and redder than any she had ever seen.

As she looked around, she saw that the Lion was still there, standing patiently as she observed her surroundings.

She turned to him inquisitively. "Where are we?"

 _In another world._

Prisca drew in a breath. Another world? Like...like Claeo's world? Or perhaps a different one entirely. She was standing on a terrace in another realm. Or at least she was having a vision that she was. Was this all real? She turned and looked back towards the huge building the terrace was set into. The structure was tall and ornately designed. It looked like a palace from a fairytale.

Then two figures came into view. As they drew near, Prisca realized that they could neither see nor hear her and the Lion. It was a man and a woman, both dressed in the strangest clothes the hobbit had ever seen. The man wore an ornate robe and the woman a flowing crimson dress. They both wore crowns on their heads and Prisca surmised that they were royalty. Yet the most bizarre thing about them was their appearance. Their skin was blue with white markings across their faces. The woman's hair was purple and the man's hair was stark white. They had faces much like hers, but their ears were pointed and swooped upwards instead of backward.

Prisca gasped when she saw the child. The baby couldn't have been but a few weeks old. Its hair was bright wispy blue. The woman cradled the infant in her arms lovingly. Prisca had never seen such joy in a mother's face and she thought she might cry at the sight.

Suddenly a bright light blazed in the eastern sky and Prisca spun around to see what it was. The man and the woman turned to look at it too. They started speaking to one another in a language that Prisca didn't understand. They seemed concerned.

It looked like a wall of fire was coming towards them, a blinding sheet of death sweeping across the land. Its roar was terrible. Nothing could escape it. It reached from earth to sky. The very air itself was set ablaze.

"What's happening?" Prisca implored.

A third figure strode up to the couple and began to quickly speak to them. Prisca still couldn't understand what they said.

"What are they saying?"

The Lion bent His head down and touched His nose to her forehead. Prisca felt light headed at first, but when her mind cleared, she found that she could understand the blue people standing before her.

"- no time for that," the third person said. This individual looked very much like the King and Queen, but the man had a very familiar looking ring hung on a chain around his neck. "You have to come with me. This world is ending. None will survive this oblivion."

As the fire on the horizon continued to roar, the Queen said, "No Daren. We cannot go. I have had a child remember. We must stay."

"She is right," the King said. "We cannot risk contamination. Perhaps with our world, this horrible disease will at last come to an end."

The third man, who was apparently called Daren, looked at them with sorrow. Prisca watched in awe as the Queen looked down at her child. A hot wind began to blow and the queen's purple hair billowed around her face. Prisca had never seen someone so beautiful.

"You must take her, Daren," the Queen said, her voice breaking with sorrow. She reached up and removed the thing that was holding back her hair. Prisca gasped when she recognized it.

The Queen gently pinned the silver six-sided flower onto the baby's blanket. Then she leaned her head down and kissed the baby on the forehead.

"I love you, dearest daughter. Let this be a reminder of who you are."

The baby cooed as it was passed into Daren's arms. The Queen's slender blue hands lingered on the baby's warm forehead. When she pulled away she buried her head in her husband's shoulder, sobs shaking her body. The wall of fire was nearly on them now.

"Go!" the King yelled over the roar of the flames. Prisca could feel the heat as her hair was blown back by the terrifying wall of death that bore down on them. The city was going up like tinder. The overwhelming sound of screams echoed through streets as all life was snuffed out.

Daren reached up and pulled the ring from its chain. With the baby in the crook of his arm, he placed the ring in one hand and grasped the baby's outstretched arm with the other. He looked one last time at the King and Queen. The King nodded to the man holding their child, as sweat from the coming heat began to drip down his forehead.

The man slipped on his ring and vanished along with the baby. The Queen and King fell to their knees, still holding each other in an embrace. The flames were here now. Prisca screamed and ran towards the King and Queen as the flames swept over them.

And then all was quiet. Prisca was on her hands and knees sobbing. Her body shook as sorrow overcame her. The King and Queen...were…were they her parents? They were. Somehow she knew it to be true. She could feel it in her very being and now they were gone.

She spun around to face the Lion, renewed anger in her eyes. How could He have allowed this? How could He…

The Lion looked back at her and she saw the tears in His large golden eyes. He was weeping too. Such sorrow! Prisca could hardly bear to look at Him.

 _I have mourned your world and your parents as you do, dear one. Grief_ _is not unknown to me,_ He said softly.

It was then that Prisca realized where they were. Wiping the tears from her eyes she saw that now there were trees as far as the eye could see. She was standing in grass and before her was a pool. In the distance all around them were more pools. She knew immediately where she was.

Out of the pool before her came Daren, still holding the baby in his arms. The child's eyes grew wide as it stared up at the golden canopy of trees. Then Daren did a curious thing. He walked right up to the Lion. Prisca took a step back. Could he see them?

"Where shall I take this child," Daren asked. The Lion raised one of its huge paws and pointed at one of the other pools.

 _Give her to the River Daughter. She will know where to place the child._

Daren nodded. He strode over to the pool and before Prisca could even speak, he was gone.

Then the scene changed again, and again Prisca recognized where they were. She had been there before.

She and the Lion stood in the Old Forest just a few feet inside the Hedge. The wind was blowing strong and the smell of coming rain was in the air. Prisca turned and saw a woman striding towards them. Her long yellow hair untouched by the wind and weather as she walked gingerly through the forest. Her green dress seemed to ripple like water as she moved. She sang a song that smote Prisca's heart; a memory of unseen times long forgotten. In the woman's arms lay the baby, still wrapped in the blanket with the silver pin. But now the baby looked very different. Its skin was no longer blue and its hair was now golden brown. As it twisted in the woman's arms, Prisca saw its small pointed ears. It was a hobbit baby now.

The woman gently laid the baby on the forest floor as if it were a feather. The baby began to cry. The woman slipped amidst the trees as a hobbit man emerged from the wall of bushes and peered into the darkening wood.

Prisca had already seen many unbelievable things, but seeing her Uncle so young took her breath away. Matthias leaned down and scooped up the baby.

"Well," he said in a kind voice. "Hello little one. And where might your parents be?"

He looked up and caught the last sign of the woman as she disappeared into the forest.

"Oi!" he called. "Miss! Is this your child?"

But there came no answer.

Then the world around them changed once again and Prisca found herself standing in Matthias's sitting room. She almost called out when she saw Estella and Porto sitting on the couch together. Matthias stood nearby beaming with pride.

In her arms Estella held the small hobbit baby, but now the silver pin was gone. Matthias had taken it before he had handed the child to the hobbit couple.

"Oh Porto," Estella said, her eyes filled with tears of joy. "Isn't she beautiful!"

"She is indeed," Porto said smiling. He reached down and tickled the baby's nose. The child smiled and blew a raspberry with her tiny pink lips.

"I found her left on my doorstep yesterday," Matthias said. "I figured seeing as how...well, you know your business Estella, but seeing as how you can't have a child, I thought there was no better couple to give her to. I know you'll give her a good home."

Estella laughed and wiped a tear from her eye. "Thank you Matthias. We will give her a good home." She paused thinking for a moment. "You know Porto, she reminds me of your aunt. You know…the one who married Wilibald Bolger. Why don't we name her after her."

Porto chuckled. "Well, I don't see the resemblance, but that is a fine name."

Estella looked down at the baby in her arms. She had that same joy that the queen had when she had held the child. A perfect joy that only a mother can have. Prisca's heart tightened at Estella's next words.

"Our beautiful Priscilla."

"I'm so sorry," Prisca sobbed. She ran up to her mother and fell to her knees. The hobbit woman couldn't see her. "I'm so sorry Mother. I have caused you so much pain."

She put her face in her hands and cried. "I should never have run away. Oh what have I done?"

When Prisca looked up from her sobbing, she saw that she was back in the Wood Between the Worlds. The Lion was standing before her now. His large head towered over her. Prisca, still on her knees looked up at Him as fresh tears began to flow down the sides of her face.

 _Do you understand now, dear one? Are all your questions answered? I have not forgotten you. I have always been watching over you. I was there when your world was ending and my servant saved you from the destruction of your realm. I was there when Daren needed direction for where to take you. I was there when Goldberry took you to the place that your uncle would find you. I was there when your parents grieved that they could not have their own child and I was there when I brought you together. I was there when war waged in Hobbiton and I brought your father and Samwise together. I was there when you began to learn to read from the Red Book. I was there every day that they despised you and ridiculed you and I have numbered every tear you cried. I was there when your father decided to move to Buckland. I was there when you found the pin. I was there when I sent the_ _Venë Faeur to find you. I was there when you were attacked at Bree. I was there at the Ford and on your journey to Minas Tirith. I used your folly with the calling stone to cause Laemellon to join you and thus save the life of Peregrin Took. And I was there last night when you were attacked and my servant Laemellon sacrificed her wing to save you._

 _There has never been a moment in your whole existence when I was not watching over you. Yet to be a Realm Jumper, to be my servant and to know the life that I can give you, you must choose to follow me. I am both the chosen and the chooser. The one who calls and is called after. Where there is great evil, there is suffering. But I have overcome all evil. In the midst of your darkness, I am the Light. I am Father to the fatherless, defender of those left behind. I place the lonely in families. I set prisoners free and give them joy._

Prisca was on her face now. As her tears stained the grass, she felt all the pride that she had held onto melt away and all that was left was the pathetic and utterly weak hobbit that she was. She saw it all now. She saw His hand on everything and she felt almost sick when she thought about how she had cursed Him in her heart.

"Forgive me," she sobbed. "I see You now. I have been so wrong. Forgive me Eru."

The Lion leaned down and gently pulled her head up with one of His paws. He gave her a lion's kiss, his warm tongue licking away the tears from her cheeks. Then He breathed on her and Prisca felt strength flow through her. She looked up at him again. Something was different. Her heart felt lighter.

 _Dearest one,_ He said. _You have seen and now you believe. Yet it is more blessed to believe having not seen. Every moment of your life has been leading you here so that you may fulfill your destiny. For one is needed._

"What must I do," Prisca asked, her eyes wide and attentive. "What is my destiny?"

 _You must aid the Venë Faeur. Tomorrow she will face her greatest battle yet._ The Lion paused, sadness settling in His eyes.

 _Tomorrow the Venë Faeur will die._

Prisca felt as if she had lost the ability to breath. Her jaw quivered as she took in His words.

"N-no," she whispered. "No. Please! Is it my fault? Is this because of me? I should have listened to her. Don't punish her because of me. Please!"

 _Child,_ He said softly. _I am telling you your story, not her's. I tell no one any story but their own. You must help her in her final hour. And you must take her place. Days are coming when you shall fight the final battle. When the catalyst is revealed, you must accept what must be done._

Prisca knelt before Him and said, "Please let me prevent this. Let me save her."

 _You will, yet not in the way that you think. But to do that you must go with my power._

"Send me, Eru. Let me help her," Prisca said

She looked up boldly into the eyes of the Lion. All the pride she had held onto was gone. There was nothing now but her and Eru. Prisca felt as if a huge burden had just tumbled from her back. Now the true adventure, the adventure that Claeo had been trying to tell her about, could begin.

"I cannot do this on my own," she said.

The Lion smiled. _Dear heart, I will be with you always, even to the end of your world and beyond._

He leaned down and touched His nose to her forehead again, but this time when she looked up, the Lion was gone.

Yet Prisca knew that He wasn't gone. There was a warmth in her chest that she couldn't explain. An excitement that told her He was still there. It was as if He was the very breath in her lungs and she knew that nothing could ever remove His presence.

Prisca breathed deep…

...and woke up.

She was lying on the floor of the front sitting room in Losswen's house. She sat up and looked around. There was no one there. Turning she saw that the boards that had covered the door had been ripped away. Something was terribly wrong.


	19. The Deal

**The Deal**

It had happened so fast. The wooden boards covering the door had been torn off from the other side. Claeo stood, ready to draw her sword. Yet before she could make a move a black reptilian creature stepped into the room and grabbed Peregrin. The hobbit had been expecting this. What he had seen in his vision had been unmistakeable. He knew what was about to happen.

The creature held its claws to his neck threateningly as Claeo drew her sword. When she stepped forward, the morloke pressed its claws up towards the hobbit's jugular.

"Don't," it hissed. Claeo stopped. Peregrin could see the concern in her eyes. Laemellon stood beside her now, the vanaloke's weary face drawn tight. The morloke holding him began to back out of the doorway and into the street. Claeo followed them cautiously until she herself was standing in the street with them. Another one of the morloki was sitting on the roof behind her. It jumped nearly 20 feet down and struck her. The poor girl fell to the ground dazed.

Several more of the reptilian beasts appeared. They rushed into the house and seized Laemellon. The vanaloke had begun to put up a fight until one of them caught her wounded wing in its grasp. She gave a cry and doubled over in pain. She wouldn't be fighting any time soon. Then they brought Losswen out. The woman was horrified and screamed in fear as clawed hands seized her.

"There's another one," one of the morloki said as it exited the house. "But she seems to be asleep."

"Leave her. We have who we want."

The answering voice came from a tall hooded figure. This person now stood amidst a circle of morloki. Peregrin had only heard about these creatures until now. He observed that they resembled Laemellon, yet only in size and shape. In the same way that she was graceful and strong, they were crooked and sickly and they had no wings.

Peregrin was forced to face the person in the hood. As the figure turned and showed its face, the hobbit exhibited no surprise. The person leered at him and gripped his chin in their right hand.

"I see you got my letter."

* * *

As Claire began to recover from the blow to her head, she looked up to see a circle of morloki. They stood at attention around one figure who stood out from the rest. It wore a long hooded cloak and was gripping Peregrin's chin in its hand. The face of the person was twisted and unnatural, like something from a horror film. Terrible black burns covered its sunken reptilian visage and its mouth pulled back to show rows of sharp teeth.

But that was not the horror that gripped Claire's heart as she pulled herself from the pavement. It was the person's eyes.

 _Morlyg._

It was unmistakable. There stood her old foe in her natural form. Not the female guise she had during the war, but rather her appearance as Claire had seen it when using _the sight_. How the demon had survived being encased in lava was beyond Claire's comprehension. Morlyg turned and met the girl's gaze. She still held Peregrin's chin in her right hand which was gloved. In fact both of her hands had gloves on them. Perhaps she had learned a thing or two since their last encounter.

"Hello Claeo."

Just hearing her voice again sent a shiver up Claire's spine. Morlyg released Peregrin and a morloke held his arms behind his back. Claire looked around and saw that both Laemellon and Losswen were also held prisoner. The young girl picked up her sword from where it had fallen when she was knocked out. No one seemed interested in stopping her. She took a few steps towards Morlyg.

"Hello again," she tried to say calmly. "I thought you were dead."

Morlyg chuckled. "I had help from a friend. The same friend who gave me these…" One of the gryphons stepped into view. Morlyg stroked its head as it came up beside her. "I assume you've met my pets? Magnificent aren't they?"

Claire heard a gasp come from behind her. She turned just in time to see Prisca standing in the doorway. The hobbit looked different somehow, but Claire couldn't figure out what it was. A morloke sprang towards the hobbit girl and grabbed her. Claire drew her sword back to defend her, but she wasn't quick enough. Soon the hobbit was detained like all the others.

"Not so fast," Morlyg said smoothly. "You don't want my servants to hurt your friends now do you?"

Claire lowered her blade. She knew when she was out gunned. Glaring at the demon, she said, "What do you want?"

"What I've always wanted," Morlyg said. "Your death." The demon stood in front of Claire now, so close she could have run her through right then and there.

"What's stopping you?" Claire asked defiantly. A strange confidence has come over her. Something about what Peregrin had said moments ago rang in her mind.

"I have been given much," Morlyg said. "And for that I was given instructions for how I was to dispose of you and your pathetic companions. You see, I know a few things you don't. And because of this I am willing to make a deal with you."

Claire chuckled indignantly. "A deal? As if I could trust you in any kind of bargain."

"Oh, but you can," Morlyg said. "I'll prove it to you."

The demon strode over to Laemellon who stood awkwardly as the morloke behind her gripped her bad wing. Morlyg grabbed the vanaloke's wrist and held it tight. Laemellon's back bowed as if she had become suddenly limp. Her legs began to wobble. Claire remembered back to when Morlyg had apprehended her vanaloke friend the last time. She had drained all the strength from her with just a touch.

"As you know, the vanaloki have the ability to tell if someone is lying just by touching their skin." Morlyg turned to Laemellon and said, "Be a dear and tell your friend if I'm lying won't you?"

The vanaloke's head slumped forward in the most strained nod Claire had ever seen.

"My terms are these," the demon said. "You and I will have one last fight to the death. If I die, all my servants will leave Minas Tirith and spare you and your friends. If you die, Minas Tirith is mine. And I won't kill your friends...but they will wish for death more than anything." Morlyg turned to Laemellon and said, "Am I lying?"

The vanaloke shook her head.

"No! Don't -," Prisca cried before a morloke clamped its hand over her mouth. The hobbit struggled and uttered muffled protest. Here eyes were pleading as tears began to well up in them.

Claire glanced at Prisca, but then turned to Morlyg. Peregrin's words "if you fight, your opponent will die" echoed in her head. Claire was not a risk taker, and this gamble was a huge risk. If she didn't win, the consequences would be terrible. But Eru Himself had given her a sign in Peregrin's healing. If she fought Morlyg, if she agreed to her terms, Morlyg would die. The bizarre confidence that she had felt before washed over her again.

As Claire was processing this, Morlyg walked over to Losswen and leaned in close to her. "Such a pretty young face. It would be a shame for me to peal it off."

Losswen was of course disturbed by this statement, but there was something else wrong with her. Her eyes were darting around as if she was seeing something they weren't. "I - I remember you," the young woman said. Morlyg raised an eyebrow as Losswen gasped, "I don't know how, but… I think you killed me."

Claire's heart sank as the young girl began to panic. The trauma of this whole ordeal was bringing back her memory of the alternate timeline. Losswen gasped and then she suddenly said, "Do you hear that? A voice from the breech. Run! Run! Darks skies and snow and death. Run!"

Morlyg turned away and remarked, "Your friend is quite mad. I'll be sure to put her out of her misery first. Or perhaps I can go ahead and do it now?" The demon drew a long sword from beneath her cloak and pointed the tip of it at the young woman's chest. Losswen shut her eyes tight. "No! No! Please!"

"I agree," Claire shouted. "I agree to your terms."

Morlyg lowered her blade and grinned. Prisca uttered a muffled scream. Claire glanced at Peregrin who looked back at her knowingly. He gave a small nod, though his expression was grave.

"Excellent," Morlyg hissed.

Without warning, the demon swung her blade down on Claire. The girl's sword flew up blazing with blue flame and caught it in mid air. As they stood, blades locked together, Morlyg bared her teeth in a hideous grin. She pushed Claire's sword back. The force was so hard that Claire staggered backwards until she was forced against the same ledge that Prisca had been trapped against the night before.

The demon lept at her, but Claire didn't fall this time. This time she spun out of the way of Morlyg's blow and launched herself over the wall. Her sword gripped tight in her right hand, she landed skillfully onto the rooftop below. Much like she had done during the war when Morlyg had been in troll form, her strategy was now to stay away from the demon until Claire had the high ground.

Morlyg jumped down after her and soon they were both on the second level. Claire ran as fast as she could with the demon hot on her heels. She needed time to plan. She needed some kind of strategy. But Morlyg didn't give her much time. Claire spun around in time to catch the hideous creature's blade as it slashed furiously at her. She was holding her own in this fight, but she knew that she couldn't keep this up forever.

* * *

Claeo and Morlyg were gone. Prisca, her mouth still held tight by the hand of the morloke that detained her, began to cry. Claeo was going to die. That was what the Lion had told her. But the Lion had also told her that she was supposed to help Claeo. Prisca's mind began to spin as to how she could do that. It seemed hopeless. She was weak and the morloke holding her was 10 times stronger than she was.

"What do I do? What I do?" she screamed in her mind.

 _Remember who you are._

The Voice in her mind was clear. Prisca thought back to what Claeo had said all those days ago when they had been traveling together.

" _In a moment of desperation I asked Eru to save me and then suddenly poof! I had fire hands... You have to ask sincerely. I know for me, it wasn't until that particular moment that I realized just how much I needed Eru. I couldn't save myself."_

Prisca's strain against the morloke's grip relaxed. She shut her eyes and concentrated.

"You said You wouldn't leave me," she prayed in her mind. "Help me now Eru. Help me save Claeo."

The cobblestone street that the hobbit stood on suddenly splintered under a shockwave of energy. Prisca was the epicenter and the morloke who held her was reduced to dust in an instant. As the wave shot out, the few gryphons who stood near to her were annihilated, leaving billowing clouds of ash in their place. Everyone else was knocked to the ground.

As Prisca looked around, she saw that the world looked very different. Losswen, Laemellon, and the other morloki where shadowy and dark. Peregrin was glowing with an unearthly light and stood in stark contrast to the others who were there. Looking down at her hands, Prisca saw that she too was glowing.

One of the morloki advanced and Prisca instinctively threw up a hand to defend herself. The dark creature stopped dead in its tracks as if it had been punched in the face. After shaking off its disorientation, it came at the hobbit again. Prisca threw up her hand again. The creature reeled back.

Prisca stared in amazement. She wondered...she hoped… but could it be true? She reached out, her fingers curled, her palm thrust outward. The morloke reached for its neck and clawed furiously.

And then the creature began to lift off of the ground.

"I'm a Jedi," Prisca said incredulously.

She pulled her hand back and then thrust it forward in a throwing motion. At the same time the morloke came forward and then flew off, head over tail as it sailed over the edge of the wall and out of sight.

All eyes were on Prisca now. The hobbit stared at her hands for a moment and then a smile spread across her face. The other morloki abandoned their prisoners and rushed the hobbit girl all at once. They flew back as Prisca threw her hands forward. The biggest moroke of the group, charged at Prisca. It jumped at her and as it did, Prisca "caught" it in mid air. She brought her hands down and the creature slammed into the pavement with a sickening crunch. Another came at her and it was careened into a nearby wall. The last creature to come at Prisca suddenly stopped and its head turned violently, its neck snapping like a twig.

Prisca Baggins stood in the midst of her fallen foes. She had slain at least 10 of them without laying a finger on anything. She could feel energy coursing through every fiber of her being. The stones at her feet stood suspended in the air as she tightened her fists. She was a Realm Jumper now and a most powerful one at that. She felt that there was nothing that her mind could not lift. Her power was flowing from Eru Himself and it was immeasurable.

Peregrin, Losswen, and Laemellon stood awestruck, but there was no time to explain anything. Prisca turned and looked down into the city. Somewhere down there Claeo was battling Morlyg. She had to get to her. She had to help her.

She never knew how she knew that she was capable of such a feat, but Prisca ran to the edge of the wall that Claeo and Morlyg had disappeared over, and vaulted over the side. As she fell, Prisca tightened her fists and willed herself to not hit the ground too hard.

She came to a complete stop. Not on the pavement below, but in the air. She was hanging suspended _in the air._ Prisca sucked in a breath and blinked a few times to make sure she was seeing this correctly. Her hair flowed behind her and her feet hung pointed downwards as she remained stationary.

She could fly? This was better than being a Jedi.

From her vantage point, she saw Morlyg and Claeo down below. They were about to enter the first level of the city. It was now or never. Prisca narrowed her gaze and at a single thought, sped through the air towards them. Claeo wouldn't die today. Not if Prisca had anything to say about it.


	20. The Death

**The Death**

Her lack of sleep was catching up with her. Claire was fading fast. Morlyg on the other hand had a strange renewed strength. Perhaps it was her passion for revenge against the girl who had gotten her encased in lava years ago. It didn't really matter. Claire had to win, but now she was starting to doubt if that was still in the cards.

They were on the first level now, north side, just below the gate to the second level. As Morlyg continued to push her backwards, Claire saw that they were in a sort of garden near the outer wall. She was being pushed into a corner and panic began to rise in her chest. It was time to try a different strategy.

Claire spun around and caught the demon's sword with hers. She grabbed the creature's right arm and pulled the glove off. She was going to try for the demon's arm again. It had worked last time after all. Yet what she saw made her falter just enough to lose the tactical advantage.

Morlyg's right arm was made of metal. And not just made of metal, it was mechanical, robotic, something that could never exist in Middle-earth at this time in its history. Morlyg kicked her in the chest and Claire was flung back against the inside of the main wall of the city.

The demon looked at her arm along with Claire. She twirled her hand around as she gazed at it proudly. Claire could hear the pistons and gears working as the shiny robotic appendage reflected the dim light of dawn.

"Impressive isn't it?" the demon said. "Another gift."

"H-how?" Claire gasped.

Morlyg grinned and her breath hissed through her sharp teeth as she said, "You're asking the wrong question."

She bore down on Claire and the girl instinctively caught the metal hand in her left. Metal claws extended from the fingertips as Morlyg began to laugh.

"That won't work this time. But I know what will."

She elbowed the exhausted girl and spun around again. The demon caught the hilt of Claire's sword with her own blade and flung the weapon away. It clattered and skidded far out of reach until it came to rest on the cobblestone pavement. Claire threw up her flaming hands to shield herself. Morlyg licked her metal claws and then ducked the girl's flaming fingertips. The demon brought her hand upward and across Claire's face.

For a moment, Claire thought that her face was on fire. A burning pain like she had never felt before seemed to press into her cheek like a dozen hot metal pokers. She screamed in pain and fell backwards. A partition for a patch of bushes caught her back as she began to tremble.

She didn't have to wonder what had happened. The look on Morlyg's face told her everything. Claire had been scratched.

The horror of what was happening overcame Claire and she looked up at the demon in shock. How could this happen? She was supposed to win. She wasn't supposed to die. Then that very fact registered in her brain. She remembered how Frodo had been killed. Now that was happening to her.

Morlyg leaned over her. She spun her sword audaciously as she gloated.

"So much for your fool's hope," the demon said. "Now I'm going to take your head like you took my arm."

Morlyg raised her sword over her head, both hands gripping the hilt like a baseball bat. Claire prayed that the sword was sharp and that it would be quick and painless.

But the sword never came. The demon's arms jerked as she seemed to pull on invisible bonds around her wrists. Morlyg's gloating visage shifted to one of confusion. She gritted her teeth and strained but nothing allowed her to move.

It was then that Claire glanced behind Morlyg. There stood Prisca, her eyes burning bright and her hand outstretched. Her head was craned low in concentration. Every time Morlyg jerked and struggled, the hobbit's upheld hand jerked as well as if she was holding the demon by an invisible rope. Prisca spun her other hand around and Claire's sword came clattering across the cobblestones all by itself. The hilt came to rest in Claire's open palm and the young girl wrapped her hand around it.

"Destroy her heart!" Prisca yelled as she strained against the struggling demon in her telekinetic grip. The hobbit groaned under the strain as she pulled the demon's arms back behind her head. Morlyg's chest was open to attack.

Claire could already feel the poison weakening her, but as she looked up into Morlyg's shocked face, she got new strength. She thrust her arm forward and plunged her flaming sword into Morlyg's chest. The demon's eyes bulged. The horrible creature screamed as fire began to eat away at her flesh. Her chest wasted away slowly at first and then the rest of her went up in a flash. The only thing that was left was her metal arm, which clattered to the stones beneath them, and a howling wail that was lost on the wind.

Claire slumped back against the partition. Her sword fell from her hand as her fingers went limp. She had lost all feeling and the numbness was terrifying. Her mind began to race as to what she should do. Yet the more she thought about it, the more she understood that there was nothing to be done. There was no clever last minute trick to fix this. No deus ex machina to save the day.

Prisca rushed over and knelt beside Claire.

"Claeo," she cried. The hobbit reached up to touch the long scratches across Claire's face.

"Don't," the girl said. "It - it's poison." Just speaking was hard now. Claire's eyes began to flutter.

"No! No, stay with me," Prisca pleaded taking Claire's hand in hers. "Please don't go." Tears began to stream down her face.

"It's ok," the young girl said. "You are a Realm Jumper now. I completed my task."

She reached up and cradled Prisca's face in her hand. The hobbit's eyes were still glowing bright. "I'm glad you finally see."

"I'm so sorry," Prisca sobbed bitterly. "I'm so sorry for everything I said. You're not a fool Claeo. You're the best friend I've ever had."

Clarie chuckled. "I asked Him for a sister...and He gave me one. Thank you for sticking with me to the end. You are… my best friend...too."

For a moment Claire wondered if the clouds had become thicker. The light around them was growing dim. She blinked and realized that it was her eyes that were growing dark. An odd feeling of peace swept over her. So this was what it was like.

The last thing that she saw was Prisca's round face, tear stained and pleading. The hobbit was saying something, but she couldn't hear her.

And then Claire died.

* * *

Claire Bernhart jerked awake. How long had she been asleep? She glanced at the clock next to her bed. She had been napping for just under an hour. Blue light of the rainy afternoon still fell through her window.

She sat up and rubbed her temples. Naps always gave her a headache and boy did she have one now. She reached up to rub her face but stopped. There was something wet on her cheek. Pulling her hand away she saw tears on her finger tips. Had she been crying in her sleep? That was weird.

Wiping her hand on her pants, she got up and stretched. It was almost dinner time so she might as well go down stairs.

* * *

The Christmas season of 2004 marked the one year anniversary of _The Return of the King_. It also was when the extended edition of that same movie came out. Claire had saved up enough money to purchase the special gift set that came with a small model of Minas Tirith. She loved to hold the small replica in her hands and imagine what it would be like to visit there. Yet there was something familiar about that city. Something on the edge of her mind that she couldn't put into words.

A few days before Christmas, as she sat in her room drawing, the song "What Child is This" came on the radio. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but something about it made her put down her pencil. Words were forming in her mind...words from another song.

 _Away. Away. Come away with me_

 _Where tears have stained the shores of the sea._

 _Away. Away. And I will tell_

 _The tales of mortals and elf kind._

That was a random thing to make up on the spot. Claire's eyes began to well with tears. Something about the words made her... sad. But she couldn't understand why.

The rest of the afternoon as she drew, she began to draw a new character. A hobbit girl who was the companion of the girl with the flaming hands. They were best friends and a story about them soon began to form in Claire's mind.

As she daydreamed about the hobbit girl's adventures, she began to wish that it was all real. Another tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it way. She had long been imagining a story around the girl with the flaming hands. How she had become a traveler between worlds and had fought a demon. Now a new story was forming in her mind. This story was about the hobbit girl and her journey to help her friend defeat that same demon.

Then a thought popped into Claire's head. A thought that was so ridiculous, that she immediately dismissed it. Yet it pressed in upon her mind so strongly that she couldn't let it go. A delusion so fantastic, that only an insane person would entertain its validity.

What if the girl with the flaming hands... _was her_?

What if it was all real?


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

A light rain dripped softly from rooftops and nearby trees as Prisca walked to the garden. The city had gone back to normal in the last two months since the attack. The citizens of Minas Tirith still didn't have a clear idea of what had happened. Only that there had been an invasion by some strange beasts and that the next day they had all magically disappeared.

Peregrin had explained to Aragorn what had happened for the most part. The King remembered Claeo from during the war and when the hobbits told him of her sacrifice, he allowed Peregrin to commission a memorial. It seemed excessive for one so obscure, but Peregrin and Prisca found closure in the process.

Mere moments after her death, Claeo's body had vanished into thin air. Only her sword remained. Prisca had waited 40 days for her friend to return. But on the last day when the girl did not come back from death, Prisca accepted the fact that she might not ever see Claeo in Middle-earth again.

It had been hard, but that was the easiest issue she had to deal with in recent days. Laemellon's wing was healing slower than normal which made life difficult. On top of that, poor Losswen had become mentally unstable. After that fateful day when she had remembered her past death, she became unhinged and it took some time for her to recover. Yet even after she had calmed down the poor woman still acted very strange. Whenever she walked through the front door of her house, she would pause and say she heard voices. "She stands ready," she would say. "Run! Run!" There was something about that spot, the supposed spot of her death, that addled her brain.

Looking after Losswen and Laemellon had become Prisca's full time job of late. Walking to the garden was a welcome break for her. Peregrin was in the citadel, attending to matters of import. The morloki had fled the city when Morlyg died, but they still roamed the surrounding lands. What was worse, they seemed to have some strange affinity for Minas Tirith. The problem of their presence was something that would be taking up a lot of Peregrin's time and resources in the coming days.

As Prisca approached the memorial, she drew out the bundle of flowers that she he held in the crook of her arm. The memorial was a statue of Claeo, standing in the same garden in which she had died, her hands held in front of her, palms upward. In her hands was her sword. At the memorial's dedication when the stone figure had been unveiled, Prisca set Claeo's sword in the statue's hands. And so there it remained.

Prisca placed the flowers in the arms of the stone figure. Stepping back, she looked at the likeness of her friend. She had come to the statue many times and spoken her mind as if Claeo could somehow hear her, but she knew that this was only a cathartic exercise for herself.

"You know Claeo...I once said that I wished my life had been different. That I hadn't been an orphan. But that life that I so despised led me here. That life led me to meet you. To meet Eru. So I suppose I take it back. I'm glad my life went the way it did."

She looked up at the face of the statue and smiled.

"I wouldn't change a thing."

As Prisca walked back from the garden, she felt refreshed. Even if her situation was less than stellar now, she had a new life ahead of her. And Eru was with her and looking out for her, she could feel it. That was enough to get her through anything.

Stepping out of the rain and into the front sitting room, she removed her cloak and hung it on a nearby peg set into the wall. She looked up and saw Losswen sitting on the couch, her hands folded in front of her awkwardly. She was looking at something on the other side of the room. Walking in further, Prisca saw what, or rather, who it was.

Across from Losswen sat the Owl. Her metal mask reflected the orange light of the fireplace as she turned to look at the hobbit.

"She can hear the voices, Prisca," Losswen said excitedly. "She can hear them. I'm not crazy. They really are there."

The Owl stood. She still wore white, but her clothes were of a strange design. As she looked down at Prisca, she said, "Claeo was right."

Prisca looked up at her confused. "A-about what?"

"The tear." The Owl stepped up to the door next to Prisca and cocked her head to the side. "Only Losswen can hear it because she was there when it was made. It is small, but I must see what is on the other side."

"What are you talking about," Prisca demanded. "Claeo never told me about a… a tear."

The Owl retrieved her bag from the couch. She pulled a strangely shaped box from one of the pockets. It was then that Prisca noticed the staff with the curious marks that she had seen in the Owl's study long ago. It was leaning against the couch.

"She told Elrain," the Owl said as she examined the box in her hands. She was tapping it and the thing emitted a strange glow. "But Elrain didn't think there was a tear in space and time. She was wrong. Claeo's jump through time has opened a tear...a crack. And on the other side…"

There was a high pitched sound and Prisca winced at the tone. Then suddenly Prisca heard a voice. It was unintelligible at first, a sentence followed by an odd loud roar of some kind. The voice and the roar were repeating over and over again.

"Do you hear it now," the Owl asked.

"I do," Prisca said incredulously.

"The voice!" Losswen cried. "She stands ready. Run! Run!"

"Two years," the Owl said examining the box in her hands. "The voice is from the future. Two years from now audible from this exact spot. A sliver of time repeating. This must be a moment of significance. A fixed point."

Prisca leaned in closer. She could hear the words now. They came clear and distinct followed by a roar like something from a huge beast. The sound froze her blood.

The Owl put away the box, shouldered her pack, and took up her staff. She scraped the end across the floor in front of her and the wooden shaft left a glowing line on the floor. After she did this, one of the two glowing symbols on the staff flickered out.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Prisca asked. The Owl had always been an obscure and vague individual, but this was magic like the hobbit had never seen. "What is the voice? What does it mean?"

The Owl looked down at Prisca with her cold hard visage. When she spoke, her voice was low and sent a chill down the hobbit's spine.

"There is a man who will burn all the worlds if he is not stopped. The Realm Jumpers call him the Aberrator."

The Owl reached into her pack and pulled out what looked like a wide metal bracelet. It was hinged in the middle and had a clasp on the end.

"Take this," the Owl said. "He is already here in Middle-earth. Two years from now, he will be in Minas Tirith. If you find him before me, this cuff will render him powerless. Beware of him, Prisca. He is unlike anyone you have ever dealt with."

As Prisca took the metal cuff from the Owl she said, "But what about you. Are you leaving?"

The Owl turned and listened to the strange echoing voice once more before saying, "Mark this day Prisca Baggins. February 26th. Two years from today is when he will be here."

The Owl took up the staff in her hands and said, "And two years from today I will stop him. Farewell." And with that final word, she stepped across the glowing line and vanished.

Prisca stood still for a moment. None of this made sense. The glowing line faded and the voice and the roar faded as well.

"It's going away," Losswen said softly.

Yet even as it faded completely and there was silence once again, the words rang in Prisca's head. The haunting phrase that made absolutely no sense to her. The foreboding words from the future that had told the Owl of dark days to come.

And these were the words:

 _Claire! It's coming! Run Claire! RUN!_


End file.
